


Are There Second Chances?

by glitteredcurls



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Harry is dating someone else but finally opens his fucking eyes, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, M/M, Mutual Pining, No cheating, POV Louis, Unresolved Sexual Tension, basically louis is in love with Harry and won't give up, best friends actually get it right, but he's good about it he doesn't push it, christmas time through new year's, harry and other boyfriend are not too prominent, so get ready for that, so you don't get anything too much, there is sex, you see them together but nothing too forefront
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 14:22:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 85,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15843093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredcurls/pseuds/glitteredcurls
Summary: Louis' relationship with Harry is complicated. Harry likes Louis, and he likes Harry-- and they aren’t quiet about it either. But Louis keeps finding himself with boyfriends (both real and not) whenever Harry confesses his feelings. By the time Louis finally collects his own courage, Harry has already appeared to have moved on for good. Louis isn’t sure how long he can stand it. Being the restrained and supportive best friend is going to be the most challenging part of their senior year.Or, the most eventful twenty-four days of Louis Tomlinson's college career.





	1. Seasons Greetings

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, it's done! I'm so excited to share this with you guys finally. Hope you enjoy this story of two pining, disaster boys just trying to graduate college. 
> 
> [Here’s a rebloggable link for tumblr, if you want to share!](https://kissyboystyles.tumblr.com/post/177556624336/are-there-second-chances-by-glitteredcurls) And come find me @kissyboystyles xo
> 
> Title from ["Pushaway" by Anarbor.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mEbQbrlV5iE)
> 
> Also, it was too long and split into two chapters, but is meant to be one giant one shot.

**Tuesday. 19 December.**

Louis had already snuck his first cigarette drag before stepping foot on his university’s campus at eighteen. Over the following four years, Louis stopped caring how obvious he was when he smoked outside. He was well aware that smoking was a bad habit. He also knew it was a worse habit to be caught smoking outside the Student Center, where any of his residents could see him. His ability to care had been compromised by the recent hell of four essays and two exams crammed into three days; Louis deserved a damn cigarette. He could worry about getting written up or fired after the tension in his shoulders dissolved into familiar jitters in his fingers.

It was the Tuesday after finals week and the campus was cleared out except for any RAs, spring athletes, and long-distance students that wanted to stay over the winter break. Despite Louis’ RA duties being over and being given the opportunity to leave, four weeks of a desolate campus and dorm building sounded better to Louis than piling into the family car to do the extended family Christmas pleasantries.

In the icy December air, he couldn’t tell what was smoke or simply his breath. Louis was only able to get through half a cigarette before ashing it on the side of the building and hurrying back inside. He tucked his hands under his arms and shouldered the Center’s doors open. That was the last time he thought he could catch a smoke without his coat.

“Fucking _shit_ it’s cold out there.” Louis huffed, walking over to the only other students Louis had for company. “There better be snow or something soon. Make it worth it.”

Liam, Niall, and Harry were clustered on the couches tucked away by the broken and forgotten Student Center payphone. The worn leather couches and two armchairs created a squared seating area by the corner window. There weren’t many people that wanted to sit in the secluded area of the Student Center, but for the few lost freshman looking somewhere to sit and cry (how Louis found the corner in the first place), the look of four upperclassmen were enough to send them scrambling elsewhere.

“Frostbite worth the possible writeup?” Liam teased, turning in his chair to make sure Louis caught his shit-eating grin.

“Oh shove it, Liam. I deserve a break.” In Louis' short absence, Harry had consumed all the space on the couch resting against the wall. He stretched his long legs over the three other seat cushions, toes of his shoes resting against the opposite armrest.

“Catch a smoke. Catch a cold.” Niall teased, moving out of Louis  footpath as he stepped over to the couch. Before Louis could even poke Harry, and as if he was reading Louis’ mind, he folded his legs back under himself. He adjusted his sketchbook in his lap, eyebrows furrowed.

“There wasn’t a soul around.” Louis said. He flopped back into his seat, stretching his legs out and gently prodding Niall’s leg.

“Oh, thank God.” Niall sighed, leaning back on his hands. “Last night for room checks!” He was the RA for the one floor in the freshman building for the students from the Rourke Arts Program. Both he and Louis didn’t think the day would come when they wouldn’t have to check out another procrastinating teenager unable to understand deadlines.

Niall was in the performing arts grad program, one semester through his first year. He had moved from Northern California to DC four years ago. He and Louis ran into each other, physically, in the library. Louis was unable to understand the hexagonal layout of the basement stacks and Niall was too busy humming and sightreading a piece of sheet music. They collided and nearly took out an entire shelf. They bonded over bruise shapes and remained close ever since.

“Wait, first official night off the clock?” Liam asked.

“Finally.” Niall nodded.

“Want to take my friend up on his dinner offer tonight?”

Originally, Louis and Liam met sophomore year when Louis became his RA. Liam was one of Louis’ rowdier residents and was willing to share his beer if Louis didn’t report the noise complaints. He often had the entire soccer team in his room waking the dead every Saturday night. He moved out of Louis' building the next semester but still invited him over for beers anyway.

“Yeah, I’d love that.” Louis said, looking at Niall for agreement. He nodded before going back to the guitar resting across his lap. The boy beside Louis grumbled quietly. “Harry? You want to go?”

“What?”

“Dinner. Liam’s friend’s place. Time not spent in your cramped dorm?” Louis said. He nudged Harry’s leg lightly.

“Oh, uh, sure, yeah.” He nodded. “I mean, I dunno. I might have to get someone from Union Station later, but, yeah. Sounds nice.” He was genuine, but sounded unenthused. He twisted and turned his notebook around, squinting at his sketch. He lifted his glasses onto his head and pulled the image directly under his nose, scrutinizing every line.

“What’s the matter, Love?” Louis asked, peering over and pulling the book down. The sketch was delicate, the lines widening and spreading over the page. Roots stretched up from the spiraled spine and rushed to Louis' fingers. Harry was an American Studies major but outspokenly envied Niall’s place in the art program. His parents didn’t want to feed this disillusion-- others called it _talent_ \-- by allowing him to pursue a major in illustration. Harry’s reason for staying on campus during the break went unspoken but universally understood.

“This bloody tree.” He smacked the page with a huff. “Take _four_ of today.”

“This is the one outside my window.” Louis smiled. It was a clear view from any position on Louis' bed. “You captured it well.”

“The leaves are all wrong.” Harry countered, his fingers sliding along the graphite lines and smudging them.

“I think it’s nice.” Louis said. “Much like all the others.”

Louis kept many of Harry’s discarded sketches, ready for the time when the artist was ready to look at them again-- or for any such time that Louis wanted to admire his progress since they’d met. The first thing Harry ever drew Louis was a snowflake, symmetrical and detailed. It elicited Harry’s favorite compliment to date: _Holy fuck. Mate, you’re at the wrong orientation. Rourke’s tour is next week_. It was doodled on the back of the orientation program but Harry awkwardly held it out to Louis, asking him if he wanted it. They traded; Louis took the paper from Harry and placed his heart in Harry's hand in return.

“Thanks, Louis.” Harry accepted the compliment stiffly, taking his notebook back. He lowered his glasses and reevaluated his work, tapping his eraser on the page. While working again, Louis leaned down and grabbed Harry’s legs, hoisting them back over the sofa to rest over his lap. Harry preferred to work big, whether it was on the page or with his body. “Honestly though, why does your dorm have to overlook the most knotted tree?”

“Why do you have to draw it?” Liam asked without malice. “Try something else for a bit.”

“Eh, I stare at the tree almost everyday. It’s seared into my memory. I have to get it out.”

“Draw something else you see everyday.” Louis grinned and leaned to the side, his face coming to the side of Harry’s page.

“You know I don’t draw people.” He said softly. Harry placed his hand over Louis' face and playfully shoved him back. “I prefer to just look.”

“Well, I don’t argue that either.” Louis winked and righted in his seat. Harry winked back before lowering his eyes to the page. His flipped his pencil and stopped erasing.

The connection with Harry was doubted every time Louis looked at him too long; there was _no way_ he had really found someone like Harry so easily. They met at Freshman Orientation the month before classes started. They were the only other international students in their touring group. Beside the shared English background, Louis was immediately taken by Harry’s careful features-- curious eyes, bracketing dimples around his bright smile, hair tousled and painfully effortless-- and didn’t stand a chance against him.

They had both changed since their first meeting, luckily. Their arms were decorated with six semesters worth of tattoos-- some Harry’s designs, others ideas that came to them on weekends when they had nothing else to do. Harry grew a few more inches and let his hair do the same, now resting just below his shoulders. Whenever he asked, Louis always said he thought it was nice, but kept his honesty buried; Harry was the most beautiful boy eighteen-year-old Louis had ever laid his eyes on-- and at twenty-one, he still was yet to meet another boy to compare. But Louis wasn’t about to tell that to any of his ex-boyfriends from the past three years, and Louis knew better than to tell any of Harry’s dates; they already knew their luck. Instead he lied to Harry. He always lied to Harry.

The four of them all went back to their quiet tasks: Liam scrolling through his phone, Harry drawing with hesitance, and Louis listening to Niall’s quiet strumming. Louis cuffed and uncuffed Harry’s jeans as he hummed to the unnamed melody Niall had been practicing all semester. Harry flexed his ankles back and forth, jostling Louis' hands and messing up his work.

“Excuse _me_.” Louis whispered, smacking Harry’s leg.

“It’s nearly below freezing. I don’t need my ankles out.” Harry teased, leaning forward and poking Louis’ hand with his pencil. “I don’t need an anklet of frostbite.”

“That could be fashionable.” Louis muttered. He grabbed Harry around the ankles tightly, his hands still chilled from the cold and sending a shiver rippling up Harry’s leg. “I think I prefer that to the choker you tried out this semester.”

“Oh shut up I liked that!” Harry said, digging his heel into Louis’ thigh.

“Believe me, I did too.” Louis muttered, readjusting Harry’s legs in his lap. “I did too.”

Harry lowered his head back to his book but shot Louis a knowing look over the top of his glasses. His smirk exposed more about Louis than it did him; the first day Harry walked to the dining hall, hair in a ponytail and webbed classic choker sitting around his neck, Niall had to dive over the table to keep Louis from having an inhaled sip of tea become his cause of death.

Louis had lied to Harry then too. Said he was cute-looking. There was nothing cute about Harry’s near-commitment to taking the fashion he saw on women in his classes to an entire new level of provocative. It was torture. Harry stopped wearing the choker just before their break in November though. The next time he spoke to Louis after Thanksgiving, he lied again. And he shouldn’t have.

“Hey, you know who I saw the other day in the library,” Liam said, pointing at Louis. Louis lifted his hands from Harry’s leg and pretended to be picking at the armrest. “Childs, from your finance class.”

“Danny? Oh, jesus. That sends me back.” Louis laughed, covering his face. Their two dates ended with a dissatisfactory first kiss. It was uncomfortable and Louis felt finished with it before their lips even touched. Another man weighed heavy in his heart, and unfortunately never on his lips. “He well?”

“Oh, definitely.” Liam muttered smugly. He lifted his phone back up, about to drop the conversation. He glanced at Harry before scrolling again.

“Go on then.” Louis motioned for Liam to continue. He was careful not to jostle Harry’s legs and send a stray line across the page. “You can’t just say that and not keep going.”

“He’s hot now.” Niall chimed in, eyes still on the neck of his guitar. “I mean, across all standards. Mine, Liam’s, Harry’s--”

“What’s that fucking mean?” He grumbled, erasing the page with a sigh. “My standards are just as good as any.”

“We don’t like the same people, Harry.” Liam said flatly, despite laughing. “I mean, no offense but I wouldn’t date Robert Faye to save my life.”

Harry looked up from his page, mouth open in faux shock. “Wait, Liam…you’d never date a _man_?” He closed his mouth and lowered his eyebrows into a plain expression. “I had almost forgotten.”

“Look, we have to keep it even.” Liam teased. “You two and us two.”

“Right, _two_.” Harry reached over and pushed Niall’s shoulder. “I’m waiting on this one. My Blondie’s a timebomb.” Niall swatted Harry’s hand away, shushing him with pretend secrecy.

Niall was a year older and cared a great deal less about being seen as gay outside of their group. Seeing as half of their group was out, it wasn’t an actual issue between them, but a few players on the soccer team with Liam were outspokenly hateful. It caused Liam to tread lightly with how he himself acted, but never policed his friends-- not that he’d have any chance controlling Harry-- or mocked them for being a little less than confident in the fifty-fifty ratio.

Louis cleared his throat. “Danny? How is he, Liam?”

“Besides getting a complete facial reconstruction apparently,” He said. “He seems good. Computer science now I think, so.” He shrugged. “That’s pretty cool-- smart guy, I guess?”

“Oh, get _brain_ , Danny!” Harry said, pumping his arm jokingly.

“That’s enough out of you.” Louis slapped Harry’s leg and squeezed his shins.

“Hey, I know some of the guys in the CompSci department,” Harry said with a revealing glance. “They aren’t shabby. He’s got great options.”

“I thought you were going through the Chem department right now.” Liam teased.

“Fuck off.” Harry threw his pencil at Liam. “It’s not like that. First, it just happened to be two back-to-back dates of Chem majors. Secondly? We’re all adults here.”

“Yeah, that CompSci TA was a little more than an adult.” Liam joked. He was no more than Niall’s age, but in actuality, it was more unheard of for Harry to snag a TA for a class he wasn’t even in. He had stumbled into the lecture hall by accident and got the TA’s number and an offering of extra credit before the class was over.

“Hey, he was alright.” Harry countered. “Danny would be lucky to land him.”

“Why the well wishes to Danny all of a sudden?” Liam handed the pencil to Louis, who tucked it back in Harry’s hand.

“Yeah. Last I checked, Harry, you hated Daniel.” Harry’s hand tightened around the pencil and pulled away from Louis' touch. “ _Still_ hate, maybe?” The two other boys suddenly turned toward each other, discussing the finer points of Niall’s guitar tuning. By that point in the semester, they’d become masters of avoidance.

Harry pulled his legs off of Louis and tucked them under himself. “Yeah, I did. Back then.”

Harry had confessed his feelings for Louis twice in their friendship. Once, in their sophomore year when Louis was in between his two dates with Danny. The disdain was palatable any time the two were in the same room. Louis didn’t feel right telling Harry he hadn’t stopped thinking of him to the point of ruining their first kiss. He left the heat in his chest to smother itself into patient, glowing embers.

The second time was three weeks prior, first day back after the American students’ Thanksgiving break. With the fear of getting everything he’d ever wanted, Louis panicked. He lied again. And they hadn’t truly discussed the lie itself until then:

“Harry,” Louis said quietly, grabbing his leg and giving it a tug. “What’s that for?” Their conversations gave the appearance they were past it. If they weren’t, Louis had less of an idea of how to navigate getting over Harry than he thought.

“I’m… I’m not _mad_ , Louis, please know that.” He whispered. The words were rushed, coming out in a condensed sigh. “I’m not.”

“I know.” Louis smiled and placed both hands on Harry’s knees. “It hasn’t changed a thing.” Louis was still hopelessly in love with Harry, four years strong.

“Alright, good. I just, I worry. Fuck, listen to me. I _worry_.” Harry laughed at himself and rubbed his forehead. “I haven’t met Elliot yet and I was starting to think…”

“Oh, well,” Louis said. _It’s complicated_ , he thought.

Elliot was fake. Unreal. A figment. A patchwork mistake trying to ease the pressure of getting the hottest senior in Louis' graduating class. The last lie Louis had told to Harry.

It had slipped out as if Louis had prepared it: _Oh, Harry, I’m sorry. I--I’m already seeing someone_ . _It’s the beginnings but still… you get it_. Louis thought it would buy him time to slowly confess his own feelings to Harry, in his own terms and words. Instead, Harry backed off, respecting the invisible boundary put up between them.

“I’ll introduce you soon. He’s busy with his own finals.” Louis said. The lies kept coming.

“I want to know this guy. You like him! He’s got to be a catch.” Harry’s tone edged on disappointed, but he grinned through it. “I meet yours, you meet mine. That’s what we do.”

“Yeah. He’s great. Really really great.” Louis wanted to cut out his own tongue. He was such an idiot. “A joy, really.”

“Please, I’d love to meet him.” Harry patted Louis' hand before getting back to his sketch. He lowered his head and hunched his shoulders, cutting everyone out. Louis tried to speak again, but the guitar strumming was slowly dying out; Niall and Liam were watching them with perked ears.

Fuck. Louis needed another cigarette.

“So. I’ll call my friend for dinner tonight?” Liam said after the tension broke. “Still okay?”

“Yeah. Please. That’d be perfect.” Niall agreed emphatically. “Give us something to do.” Other than stare at each in burning discomfort. How boring.

They all stayed in the Student Center for another hour before they separated to finish their duties before dinner. Niall left to finish to get his paperwork for room checks and Liam was distracted by a phone call. Harry remained sitting in a huddle on the opposite side of the couch. Louis watched him with an apology trying to rise in his chest. He came close twice, but swallowed the truth in favor of avoiding the consequences. Their silence remained unbroken until Harry nearly crumpled his page, tearing it out and handing it to Louis. He stood and left silently, his steps heavy and stride short.

The leaves had been altered, the phantom of dark lines underneath the new shapes. The trunk had been shaded and smudged, loose fingerprints on the edges of the page and on the back. In the corner, beneath a flurry of prints were a cluster of circles and a cross-- the outline for a face left incomplete.

If it wasn’t for the room checks needed to be fully off duty for the break, Louis wouldn’t have left his seat. He was exhausted from digging himself farther into a hole; standing was no longer possible. He thought that maybe if he sat long enough, the light humming in his bones would rattle him apart. Nicotine had the habit of pushing off Louis' anxiety, but never cured it. A single smoke was yet to fix the low hanging dread in Louis' chest. He hoped by the evening, the jittery nicotine would cure him. It only ever treated the symptoms of Louis' bad decisions though. It never cleared the air between him and Harry.

It never wrapped around Harry and pulled him to Louis and finally confessed every word boiling in his stomach and itching under his skin for four years. No, that was all up to Louis, and he had been too much of a coward to seize his chance three weeks ago.

The hole was so deep, he should’ve just buried himself.

* * *

Room checks were a minor affair. Seven students in four rooms to review before signing off on the cleanliness of the dorm. Truthfully, Louis could have stepped on a crushed beer can and he would have signed any paper that was slipped in front of him. He got back to his room with three texts from Liam telling him they were on their way up to his room and to unlock the door and let them the _fuck_ in.

Louis turned his lock before pulling his red RA polo over his head and tossing it on his unmade bed. He began rummaging in his drawers when his door opened.

“Come on, I want-- hey! Are we interrupting?” Liam teased, gripping the door as he slowly poked his head around to scan the room.

“I’m not indecent.” Louis said, rolling his eyes. “You’ve seen me without a shirt.”

“Not recently.” He said stepping inside. Niall came in behind and shut the door over. Louis could spot his RA polo on under his peacoat. “Since when have you got that chest piece?”

“Last winter.” Louis said. “Went with Harold when we revived ourselves from that horrific back-to-back exam day.” _It is what it is_ , his tattoo read _\--_ and what it was at that moment was a complete shitmess. At least the tattoo left a fond memory. “Can’t believe you didn’t know.”

“We don’t make it a habit of catching you shirtless.” Niall said. “Harry’s got all of us covered.” They couldn’t help but chuckle; the boy hated wearing a shirt when it wasn’t necessary in the summer. And the spring. And most of the fall. The nudity bothered none of them, but the confidence Harry exuded was a knot in Louis' stomach _waiting_ to tighten.

“Well, I’m taking over from now on.” Louis teased, tugging a shirt over his head. “So, who is your friend again?” Louis said. He offered Niall a different shirt but he declined with a smile. “I mean, I’ve only heard about him.”

“He’s graduated. TA in the Poli-Sci department.” Liam answered. “You’ll like Zayn. Real sweetheart.”

“Yeah?” Louis lifted an eyebrow to Niall. He assured Louis with a quick nod before pointing to Louis' shoes on the other side of the room. It was hidden under Louis’ broken skateboard; he learned the hard way not to skate back from a 9pm final on three hours of sleep. He was doomed to a life of walking the entire break. “Good to know.”

“Alright, shoes are on-- where’s Harold?” Liam said, clapping his hands together. “Niall, you texted him, yeah?”

“He’s not coming.” Niall said. “He did have to get someone from the train. Just the three of us tonight.” Louis tried not to notice the pointed glance at him.

“Fair enough. On we go.” Liam said. “I’m fucking starving.”

Louis was barely able to grab his key as Liam ushered them all out and toward the stairwell. Louis trailed behind Liam, Niall close behind him. The stairs were lit by fluorescent bulbs, shadows catching them when not standing directly underneath them. They trekked down the four flights until reaching the lobby of the dorm building. No one was on duty that night, but the three boys took the back door out of the dorm anyway out of habit.

In the brisk cold, Louis dug his hands into his pockets. His lighter and half pack of cigarettes were waiting for him.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Niall said once they left the campus gates. “what was that earlier with Harry? I thought the whole Danny debacle was over.”

“It is.” Louis sighed. “But the Elliot one isn’t.” Niall opened his mouth to ask questions, but Liam reached out to slap Louis across the back of the head. Liam got the late night phone call from Louis screaming about the worse lie he’d ever told. Liam came over from the other side of campus and smacked him then too.

“You still haven’t told him?” He cried. “You are a fucking idiot.”

“No.” Louis said, voice timid. “And I accidentally told Harry he could _meet_ him.”

“I’m going to push you into oncoming traffic. You are a fucking-- Oh my god.” Liam groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “I can’t believe you’ve somehow made a terrible situation _worse_.”

“Someone please. Catch me up?” Niall interrupted, grabbing Liam’s arm and tugging him back into line. The sidewalk was cramped but if Liam left the huddle, Louis was sure he’d leave them both stranded on Florida Ave.

“You know when things are too perfect?” Louis sighed, already sliding a cigarette out of his pack. He rolled it between his fingers in his pocket.

“As of this summer… yeah.”

“When everything you’ve known you wanted for like, four years, finally is yours to take?”

“...Yeah.”

“When the entire world slows down because it wants you to savor the exact moment you got everything you’ve dreamed of?”

“Yeah.”

“When you freak out and drop the ball by creating a fake boyfriend because dating your crush of four years is just too perfect and you’re sure you’ll fuck it up?”

Niall stopped walking. They turned to watch his mouth open, words too constricted to come out.

“Tell me you didn’t.”

“And gave him a fucking name. First and last.” Liam added, slapping Louis again. “Fucking moron.”

“Hey,” Louis brought his hand out to point at Liam. The cigarette acted as his finger. “All I have to do is have someone act as Elliot and then they can meet. And then there can be a horrible break up and everything will be fixed.” A horrible breakup would be their salvation.

Liam snorted. “Just that simple.”

“You better hope.” Niall muttered. “That’s a whole lot to fuck up.”

Louis flicked his lighter. “Thanks. I’d forgotten.”

If it wasn’t for finals to interrupt everyone’s schedule and stable thought process, Louis would have driven himself sick realizing how goddamn stupid he had been. If he had to go through three weeks of regular hangouts in the Student Center or homework meet ups in the library basement, and have to face Harry without a truthful answer, Louis wasn’t sure he would’ve passed the semester. Seeing Harry was still weird for a few days, but Louis was able to escape and chalk it up to studying-- or meeting up with a fake boyfriend. Luckily, after exams, everything evened out and they were able to go back to being how they were.

Which unfortunately looked a lot like two men hopelessly in love with each other.

* * *

Zayn lived just off Florida Ave. It was a short enough walk for none of the boys to be out in the cold too long, but just long enough for Louis to finish off a cigarette. Liam knocked on the door and announced his name before walking right in the front door. The apartment foyer and first room were painted a dark red, adding a warmth and closeness that was often missing from stark white dorm walls. Louis was left slowly untying his shoes at the door as Liam and Niall kicked them off and rushed in.

“Hey! Thank you so much for coming. I needed someone else to cook for besides myself.” Zayn sounded pleasant, obviously delighted to see both Liam and Niall. The house smelled amazing, spices swirling with the terrifically bland smell of steaming rice. It was definitely better than university cooking.

“Are you kidding? Thank you for offering again.” Niall said. “It’s mine and Louis' last night of RA duties. We’re free until January.”

Upon hearing his name, Louis hurried from the dark foyer toward the light and wonderful smelling food. The kitchen ran along the wall closest to the door. Liam and Niall were hanging their coats on the chairs lining the breakfast bar. Behind the bar, and with skillful hands checking every pot, was Zayn. He was tall and slim, an oversized track sweatshirt doing nothing to define any sort of shape, with black hair pulled back by a thin headband.

Louis remembered when Harry tried to wear headbands in the beginning stages of growing his hair out. His curls would never lay flat against the pull, always trying to wrap around the elastic. There was a collection of photos from a drunk Saturday night where Harry tried every which way to pull his hair back. It was saved on Louis' phone and backed up in every way possible. He sometimes wondered if Harry remembered it too. Probably not.

“Thanks for cooking, man.” Louis said, holding his hand out to Zayn. “It smells delicious.”

“It tastes even better.” He smiled, taking his hand quickly. “You guys ready?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Liam sighed, pulling his chair out. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

“I should have high expectations then?” Louis laughed, shouldering his jacket off. “Admittedly though, I haven’t eaten a home cooked meal since August.”

“You better sit down then.” Zayn said, placing empty dishes in front of the three of them. “Just in case.” He winked before turning to grab the pot and filling their bowls. No one else seemed to notice Zayn’s wink and smirk of arrogance. It wasn’t relevant, but Louis tucked it away anyway.

Louis' bowl was the last to be filled, Zayn taking his time getting a fair mix for him. “Where did you learn how to cook? This looks fantastic.”

“My mom’s amazing.” Zayn said. “I wasn’t allowed to live a single day outside the house without knowing how to cook.” Niall and Liam shared their own indistinguishable praise with forks in their mouths. Niall’s was the closest to a compliment: one hand reaching over to touch Zayn’s arm while the other was careful to cover his mouth as he actually spoke about the food in front of him. Liam’s was mostly grunts of enjoyment.

“Genius, honestly.” Louis said, ignoring them. “I can’t cook for shit. But, I mean, I’ve moved continents and survived alright I guess.”

Zayn tisked. “It’s less about you surviving, more about entertaining.” He grinned at Liam and Niall outwardly enjoying their meal. Louis carefully picked a balanced bite on his fork. “I mean, how in fuck are you going to impress a woman if you’ve got nothing to offer?”

Niall and Liam both held up their hands, pausing any response as they swallowed their food to speak. “ _Man_.” They corrected.

“Thanks, boys.” Louis laughed, finally taking a bite. It nearly burned the roof of Louis' mouth, but he couldn’t care. He chewed slowly and enjoyed the feeling he was back home-- in _a_ home. “Proper introduction: Hi. Louis. In-house homosexual.”

“Ah, absolute joy.” Zayn jokingly reshook Louis' hand over the counter. “Welcome.”

“Thank you.” Louis bowed his head with gratitude. “Really.”

“Anytime.”

After a quick cheers to their survival of the semester, they dove back into their meals. The flavor consumed all of Louis' attention and energy. Eventually, Niall and Zayn picked up quiet school talk while Liam listened silently, bowl nearly finished. Louis could hear them talking but didn’t tune in to process any of their words. They passed through his ears numbly. It was a soft commotion, much like their late nights sitting on Niall’s floor; beers in hand, soft guitar looping around them, Louis' head resting on Harry’s lap as he stared up at the streetlamp’s reflection on the ceiling. Often times, Harry’s face would block it, but he’d refocus and look at the new spectacle. He’d wanted to kiss Harry every time, but he found the courage pooling low in his feet as his bones jittered into jelly.

In his pocket, Louis' phone vibrated against his lighter. He dug for it while still eating with his other hand. He heard Niall mention an old RA story he’d told three times before. Zayn was new to it and gave him his full attention, allowing Louis to retract his. He opened his phone to see a text from Harry.

_How’s dinner?_

_Going alright. I’m the minority without you_ . He text back. He looked over at Niall, grinning and enjoying his time as storyteller-- especially with such a captivated audience. _Actually, I’m not sure_ …

 _BLONDIE!!_ Harry text back immediately. Louis could all but hear Harry shouting it, his arms shooting up in the air. Blondie was the nickname Harry created for Niall, used everytime he was drunkenly stretched out on his floor and gently running his hand over his guitar strings while Niall was trying to play. It had since been adapted to sober situations as well.

Louis typed out another message after Harry sent a few hearts. _Did the train go alright?_

_Yeah, he just didn’t want to walk back to his apartment alone. enlisted me to be his escort._

_Now I get why you’re going to be out all night_. Louis typed quickly, not letting Harry have a moment's reprieve.

_Fuck you._

_I’m waiting_. Louis sent back.

Louis stared at the screen, waiting for Harry’s typical response or change of topic. Harry’s side of the conversation stayed still, no bubbles rising from the keyboard.

“Everything okay?” Liam asked. Niall was leaning forward on the counter and gave Liam and Louis a chance to talk together as well. “Your mom?”

“No, no. It’s Harry.” Louis said. He slipped his phone back in his pocket and grabbed his lighter instead. “Asking if he was good, got his friend.”

“And?” Liam said. “And did he say who it was?”

“It went well apparently. And I don’t know, never met him. Didn’t even get a name.”

“Eh, I’m sure we’ll meet them soon enough.” Liam was positive they’d cross paths. Harry didn’t have anything to hide. His friend was at least real.

“Hey, you need a smoke?” Zayn asked, noticing Louis' lighter. “I have a pack I’m nearly finished if you want to bum a few from me.”

“No, I’m okay for right now. Thanks though.” Louis tried not to smoke more than three a day; he’d gotten down to one every few days but, then Harry fucking Styles all but got on his knees in front of him, confessing his attraction and long lasting infatuation and well, that went to hell in a handbasket. The two of them had that habit. “Trying to quit, I guess.” Symptoms only; Louis had to fix it himself.

“Since when?” Niall laughed. “You’ve started up more in the past month than practically any other semester.”

“Lot on my mind.” Louis said shortly. “Leave me be, yeah?”

Niall pulled back with surprise. “Don’t jump in my shit. Just pointing it out.”

Louis flicked his lighter, tiny metal gears scratching quickly. “For the past month I’ve been trying to create a _whole human being_. Not exactly easy, Niall.”

Zayn clucked his tongue quickly, confusion pushing him to speak. “If you’re trying with other guys, yeah, it’s not going to be easy.”

“Not like that.” Niall said softly, waving the idea away from Zayn and discouraging Liam’s laughter. “Just leave it.”

“Okay, okay.” Zayn said. “How about a beer? Can I get you one-- anyone?”

“I’d love a beer, actually.” Louis answered. “I walked here and I’ll stumble back if I have to.”

“Oh come on. It can’t be that bad.” Zayn said. He tried to sound hopeful as he walked to his refrigerator.

“Addition to Louis’ introduction,” Liam said, taking a beer from Zayn. “He’s in love with our missing friend, Harry.”

“Cheers to that,” Zayn lifted his beer and tapped Liam’s bottle. Louis pulled his away before Zayn could tap his own.

“And he thinks I have a boyfriend. Which I don’t.”

“Where’d he get that idea?” Zayn asked. Niall quietly, without a beer for himself, pulled his keys out of his pocket and began removing Zayn’s beer cap. He’d need it.

“I told him.” Louis sighed. He tried to place his bottle down for Niall and nearly shattered it on the counter. Every time he had to admit it, the more hopeless he felt.

“Why’d you fucking do that? You want the guy or not?”

“He does.” Liam answered, taking a long sip. “We’ve been over this.”

“So why the self-sabotage?”

“You think a man constantly making the same mistakes would _know_ why--”

“You’d have to see him,” Louis said quietly, wiping away the condensation on the bottleneck. “He’s… He’s beautiful. I couldn’t date him, you kidding? I’d make a fool out of myself. I’d find a way to fuck it up-- although I’m not doing so hot with this approach either.” Louis tilted his head back and let the stale flavor of beer coat the rest of his words. “I’m fucked. And in the worst way possible;  I’m not even enjoying this.”

“I imagine not.” Zayn nodded slowly, the illogical information sinking in with understandable difficulty. He held his beer, stillness possessing him to only be able to stare at Louis with furrowed eyebrows. Niall took his beer for a sip before guiding it back into his hand. “So, where is Harry now?”

“Had to get someone from the train station.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Nah, Harry isn’t quiet about when he’s getting laid.” Liam disagreed. Louis craned over Niall’s shoulders to glare at Liam. “What? He isn’t!”

“He’s just… outspoken, Liam. He’s not oversharing.”

While Louis wasn’t public about his own life beyond his three friends-- and a welcoming stranger-- he could understand why Harry found empowerment in sharing freely. He always told Liam and Niall he never spent a moment in the closet, but the caveat was he never spent a moment in the closet _in America_. Living an ocean away was freeing for them both. While the freedom intimidated Louis, Harry embraced it with open arms-- and long hair, tight jeans, and inability to care about appearing masculine when it was “appropriate”. It was the most admirable thing about Harry. The other boys made light-hearted jokes but the courage wasn’t any less prevalent.

“Also, just because he’s not having sex doesn’t mean he’s not dating someone.” Niall countered. “That _does_ happen, ya know?” He looked at Zayn for confirmation, who simply handed him their beer again.

“It can’t be a boyfriend.” Louis repeated. “He would have told us. He would have told _me_.”

“And you can’t just tell him you lied, _why_?” Zayn continued.

“This is the second time he’s asked me out.”

Zayn slumped down and rested his forehead on the counter. “Oh god, you’re helpless.”

“I told you to leave it.” Niall laughed, placing the beer back in his hand. “Now you’ve done it.”

“I can’t believe you know someone this stupid.” Zayn sighed. He was laughing, incredulous to the complicated nature of something that should have been so simple. “Louis, just _tell him_.”

“I told him he could _meet_ my boyfriend.”

“Holy shit.” Zayn pinched the bridge of his nose while Liam and Niall began quietly chuckling at his declining composure. Part of Louis found the humor in it, but that part never survived his nicotine treatments. “Niall, how the fuck is he this bad?”

“Not sure where we found him, man.”

“And how long have you been trying to fix this?” Zayn asked with a long sigh. “Did you say a month?”

“Just about.”

“I feel compelled to help you.” Zayn said. He tipped the bottle back and took a long sip. Foam frothed up as he roughly handed the bottle back to Niall. “I’m in.”

“Oh, no. Wait a fucking minute. Louis, don’t prostitute my friend to solve your problems.” Liam interrupted. “That’s not why I brought you here.”

“Zayn, this is an insane idea. You aren’t supposed to encourage him.” Niall said. “We’re committed to the least insane idea: telling Harry the truth.”

“He’s obviously not going to do that.” Zayn argued. “Let’s take the other approach. Let’s give him the fake boyfriend-- and then let’s take him away! I can break up with you. It’ll be easy.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“I won’t go that far.”

“Zayn.” Niall slapped his arm. “ _Don’t_ encourage him.”

“I’m not encouraging. I’m doing this. I’m going to help.”

It was the perfect chance-- only chance Louis had, really. Every classmate Louis could even think to begin coaxing into such craziness had gone home for the break. The only available people Louis knew were in the kitchen, staring at him in various levels of disbelief.

It was obvious, too, that Zayn was _way_ out of Louis' league. Harry was as well, but Louis knew the eclectic side of him to level the playing field. Zayn was complete light years away-- and possibly not even gay-- it would make perfect sense for him and Louis to “break up” in the literal hours after meeting Harry. It would be a smooth transition from one beautiful man to another.

“You’re a bloody genius.” Louis cried, lifting his beer bottle. “Happy three week anniversary, hun, hope it doesn’t last.”

“Fuck off and die, my dear.” Zayn grinned, clinking their glasses. Niall and Liam turned to look at each other. Liam was already holding his temples and Niall was completely silent.

“I just wanted to have a nice dinner with friends.” Liam muttered. “What happened? What fucking happened, Niall?”

Niall opened his mouth repeatedly, attempting to find his words. He sighed for at least two full sentences before finally settling. “I might need my own beer.”

“Don’t want to be splitting one with me while the ol’ ball and chain is watching?” Zayn tisked.

Niall pursed his lips, glaring at Zayn. “Something like that, yeah.”

* * *

**Wednesday. 20 December.**

Nine o’clock at the on-campus coffee cart. Louis had his first date in almost two years and it was a complete setup.

After two beers, the plan began to fall into place. It sounded even better after a third. They’d meet at the coffee cart like they were both simply out that Wednesday morning. A complete surprise, nothing formal and nothing shoving the “boyfriend” in Harry’s face. It was the lightest blow he could deliver before healing the situation completely.

Zayn stood at the counter, painfully pretending to decide on a drink, while Louis hid on a bench a bit away, waiting for Harry to come strutting up. Harry didn’t go a single morning without a steaming cup of straight black tea to nearly scald him awake. After waiting for his friend, and presumably having to show him around, Harry was bound to be exhausted and need caffeine.

Nine fifteen came and went and Louis began to lose hope. He wasn’t prepared to never get the chance to even out his lie to eventually undig the truth. In the silent moments, staring at the single other student staring at the menu, Louis ignored the acknowledgement that the easier choice was to just tell Harry he had lied. But then, how many other lies would Louis have to forfeit?

Nine twenty-eight and Louis was about to call it all off when a familiar clacking of boots echoed in the desolate open foyer. Harry was barely escaping pajamas with a large Rourke School of Arts sweatshirt covering him nearly down to his knees, but accompanying them with black jeans and short boots. His hair was pulled up into a knot and his backup pair of glasses rested on his nose. He wiped them clean before reading the menu.

He stood close to Zayn, leaning forward to try and decode the poor chalkboard writing. They didn’t seem to exchange any words but Zayn placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder as he leaned over to grab his own drink, pulling him into a conversation. His charm was impressive. Harry straightened his posture to look him in the eye, smiling and nodding. They shook hands and Louis watched Zayn repeat the name fed to him: _Elliot Turner_.

The realization on Harry’s face was immediate. His eyebrows lifted and his grin faltered. Louis started walking toward them quickly, pretending to have been using the post office at the other end of the hall.

Zayn saw him and lifted a hand, still grinning. “Hey, there he is.”

“Hey-- _Oh_ , I see you’ve met Harry!” Louis knew it would be easier to sell his surprise if he smiled, but it felt cruel to him. Harry’s grin was tight, trying to stay bright despite the display being paraded in front of him. “Harry, Elliot. My boyfriend.”

“It’s an absolute pleasure.” Harry nodded. “I’ve heard such nice things I’m glad I get to finally meet you!” Louis and Harry had never discussed Elliot. He was lying to cement Elliot’s life within their own. Fuck, he was being _too nice_.

“Same about you, I have to say.” Zayn winked at Harry as he touched his arm. “Glad Louis has someone like you when I’m not around.”

“Yeah. Lucky I found him.” Harry chuckled softly, his expression changing into something unreadable. He touched Zayn’s arm before turning to the register and ordering two teas-- one straight, one with lemon and honey. “Met first day of orientation.”

“I heard.” Zayn lied, nodding. “Destined best friends, eh?”

Harry shrugged, his smile gaining strength again. “I like to think so, yeah.”

“Only one who knows how to make a decent cuppa too.” Louis added. “Both of us; straight or at least a splash of milk.”

“You’ll have to teach me how you do it, Harry. I’m struggling at home.” Zayn laughed warmly, placing a hand on Louis' back. It rested safely between his shoulder blades, subtly pushing Louis forward.

“Yeah.” His eyes lowered to his hands, fingers twisting his rings around. “Definitely.”

“Hey, well, I have to run and get to work, but really, Harry, fantastic to match a name to such a pretty face.” Zayn gently tapped the side of Harry’s face before turning to Louis. “See you later, darling.” He pecked Louis on the cheek, leaning in closely to his ear. “This better work out for you. You were right. He’s beautiful.” He winked again and walked off swiftly.

Louis found that once they were alone, he had even less to say on the subject of Elliot.

“So, uh, that’s my boyfriend.” Louis said slowly. He lifted his arms up, as if they’d cut the tension, but they fell lifelessly back to his sides.

“Uh, huh.” Harry said flatly, staring at the menu despite having already ordered.

“I told you he’s sweet.”

“Yup.”

“It’s so funny you guys ran into each other.”

“Yeah.” Harry lifted his glasses and placed them on the top of his head. Now he was staring at a menu he couldn’t even read.

“Alright, what’s the issue here?” Louis snapped, stepping in front of Harry. “You said you wanted to meet him and then--”

“That’s not your boyfriend.” Harry said, eyes focusing on Louis' face slowly. It was the only thing in focus, and it had to be Louis' transparent performance.

“W-What? Yes he is.”

“That man spent two minutes trying to one, pick me up or _two_ , get me to sleep with _you_.” Harry said firmly. He crossed his arms. “If you didn’t want me to meet Elliot you just had to say so. I’m not unreasonable, Louis. I get it could be weird for you. I’m not a monster.” He wasn’t, but Louis was.

“No, Harry, wait. Listen-- I’m sorry.” Harry’s feet were still planted, but Louis was already anticipating his swift exit. The tea cups were being slid across the counter. Louis quickly handed money to the student behind the register.

“I have to run this to someone.” Harry said, lifting a cup. “I don’t have time to nitpick this, Love, I really don’t--”

“You’re right though.” Louis blurted, grabbing Harry’s arm. “I mean, you’re fucking right. He’s not my boyfriend. I-- I don’t have one.”

There was no other movement in the small atrium, but Louis felt as if the walls froze. Harry sighed and lowered his glasses back onto his nose. He took in every moment of guilt and wasted time spreading over Louis' face.

Harry smiled sorely. “That’s okay. I get it. I pushed it. I should have taken your first no, that’s fine. I get it.”

“No, you don’t.” Louis couldn’t help but finally let out an airy laugh, finally finding the ridiculousness hilarious. “I-- I made him up because I was just so…” Harry blinked at Louis with his unbelievably kind eyes, completely at his will to be destroyed or saved. “I like you a lot. I’m not sure how to properly say it. I always have. Since orientation, when you doodled that freaking snowflake, I’ve thought you were the only boy I could ever think about.”

Harry blinked and the vulnerability held out to Louis seemed to be shattering in his eyes. “Louis, wait,”

“I know I didn’t say something sooner-- I’m a fucking idiot, you know this--”

“Louis, _stop_.” Harry was just as desperate, but for a completely different reason.

“I just didn’t know how to handle finals and then everything _you_ said that night and how I felt. It was a lot and I wanted to decide how to tell you… Of course I’m not saying any of it coherently, but I am fucking saying it finally.” Louis sighed, his entire body finally able to swell with a few deep breaths. “Sorry it took me so goddamn long.”

“Louis,” Harry’s face was still and pale.

“What, love? W--What did I say?” Louis placed a hand on Harry’s arm. The warmth shot through Louis' fingers and filled his chest.

“I picked up a friend yesterday.” Harry said slowly. He lifted his second tea cup. “I was going to introduce everyone tomorrow.”

“Yeah? And?” The truth was there in Harry’s words, but ignoring it was so much easier.

“Lou, he’s my boyfriend.”

Louis grabbed the counter, his body numbing itself in response to the knot twisting in his chest. Louis couldn’t have been more wrong about his best friend. He was positive Harry was still single after being rejected for the second time. It turned out that Louis wasted time and sent Harry to find someone who could reciprocate his feelings.

Louis knew then he could quit smoking easily; there was nothing that was ever going to push aside the heaviness ripping him open from the chest down. A cure for heartbreak was a naive hallucination.

“We have a seminar together. We have been talking all semester, but I mean, I still want-- _wanted_ \-- you. But then when you told me you had someone, I got the hint. I had to stop moping around your dorm room and get an actual boyfriend who loves me.” Louis felt sick. “Casper’s sweet. We get along nicely.”

“T-That’s good.” Louis coughed up. “I’m super happy for you.”

“You don’t have to lie, Louis.” Harry sighed.

“Why start now?”

“I’m sorry we missed our chance. Maybe it’ll come back around.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Louis tried to smile at Harry but couldn’t seem to see him through his unfocusing vision. _Fuck_ , he didn’t think he’d cry. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

“Louis,” Harry emptied his hands to grab Louis'. “I’ll always feel that way about you, but… now I have Casper. I can’t abandon what we have either.”

“Yeah, no, I get it.” Louis spoke softly to avoid the possibility of his voice cracking and his entire facade crumbling. “Consider it over. I said my part, you said yours, it’s fine. _It’s fine_ , really.” Louis had to leave or face the reality of collapsing in front of Harry.

“Maybe another time, baby.” Harry sighed, hands slipping out of Louis'. He grabbed the teas-- one his, one Casper’s. “I’ll text you later.”

He kissed Louis on the cheek before brushing past him. The atrium was empty again and felt he had fallen off the Earth. There was no one else around to root him, to know he was even there. It was the worse case scenario, and it was Louis' first attempt at saying I love you.

He lit a cigarette and walked out of the atrium and to the back door of the Student Center. He dialed Liam, blowing out a stream of smoke as it rang. It forced him to keep taking deep breaths.

“Yeah?” Liam yawned.

“Where are you?”

“Uh, a bed.” Liam responded roughly. “My bed.”

“I’m coming up. Unlock the door.” Louis ordered. “Be there in five.”

“Sure. Is everything okay--” Louis hung up to avoid the ridiculous question.

Technically, everything was fine. Louis had come clean to Harry about the pretend boyfriend and there were no hard feelings. Harry was, apparently, dating someone new and was so happy he thought to introduce him to the group. All things considered, things couldn’t have been better just a few days before Christmas. But Louis just couldn’t believe the one time he fessed up to Harry-- to the homework nights he’d spend getting caught staring at Harry scribbling an essay and chewing his bottom lip; the fourth beer he shared with Liam that finally got him to spill his guts and admit how much he liked Harry; the way Harry’s bravery was the most beautiful thing about him; about how thinking of dating anyone other than Harry seemed a betrayal to the rest of his life-- and Harry had already moved on.

Louis should have finished their abruptly ended text conversation the night before. He shouldn’t have let the tension die between them. He should have told him then: _I’m waiting. Because I’m actually in love with you. Come over to Zayn’s for dinner. It’s not the same without you_ . Instead, he let a few drinks push him to scheme a plan of deception for his best friend, who put his heart out for Louis repeatedly, while Louis acted like it was scary for _him_. Louis was a coward beyond words. Of course Harry moved on. He deserved it.

Louis put his cigarette out on the side of Liam’s dorm building before stepping inside. He kept his head down and tried not to accidentally acknowledge any stray students or soccer players from Liam’s floor. Liam’s roommate had gone home about six days prior and made it that much easier to shove into his room yelling.

“I’ve fucked it up! I’ve completely fucked it up!” Louis cried, immediately kicking off his shoes. “I can’t believe I fucked it up _so_ badly. I mean, I expected something to go wrong, but not literally everything.”

Liam sat up in bed slowly, rubbing one eye and squinting through the sunlight with the other. “What.”

“He’s got a bloody boyfriend.” Louis started laughing, soft and incredulous at first but cold and distant by the end.

Liam took Louis in with stunned, wide eyes. “He doesn’t.”

“Oh, he does. Got him from the train station yesterday! Picked him up like a bloody wife at an airport.” Louis flopped himself on Liam’s bed, arms folding over his face as he groaned. “And he wants us to meet him tomorrow.”

“Is he gonna be real?”

“Oh, I’m gonna murder you--” Louis cried, rolling over and grabbing at Liam’s throat. Liam dodged Louis and tucked both his arms under his own. They fell back onto the bed trashing, Louis trying to break out of Liam’s grip and Liam obviously far stronger than him. Louis burned through his reserved energy in a moment, going lax beside Liam.

“It’s not that bad, Louis.” Liam said, releasing his arms. “It’s just a boyfriend. He’s not getting married or anything. Just a boyfriend. You’ve survived them before, you can survive this one too.”

“This one is different.” Louis said. “He’s never known about how I feel when he dated other guys. That’s been the whole point; I didn’t want him to know unless we _could_ be together. Now it’s just going to be… be… _torture_.”

“Now you know how Harry felt.” Liam said, shrugging. “Hate to say it, but he’s done it, what? Twice now?”

“Yeah. Twice.” Two chances and Louis continually blew him off.

Louis previously had Harry sitting on his bed, holding his hands in the dim lighting of his dorm, and looking at him like the entire world had melted away. The branches of that god forsaken tree had been tapping against Louis' window as Harry spoke, his words weaving in and out of the _tink tink tink_ with beautiful softness. Louis had a boy running a hand up and down his arm, soothing his fumbling and jittering nerves, and telling him that he was the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen. Louis heard Harry say the words, _“Searching is exhausting knowing that you’re the only one I come back to_ ” and said no. Twice.

Dear God, what was he thinking?

“You have to let him be happy now. He did that for you, yeah?” Liam was Louis best chance at honesty. Harry was obviously out of the question and Niall would try to soften the blow for Louis. He needed someone to slap him out of his rutt and encourage him to push forward-- even if Liam had to be standing behind Louis doing all the pushing.

“You’re right.” Louis nodded, moving his head to rest against Liam’s shoulder. “Or, maybe you could set me up with Zayn.” He laughed, turning his head to smirk and alleviate Liam from his therapeutic duties.

“Zayn’s not gay.” Liam told him, patting his chest. “Sorry.”

“ _Right_.”

“Oh, like you can always tell.”

“Well, all I know is you bloody can’t.” Louis cried, turning and pointing at Liam. “You didn’t know _Harry_ was gay for the longest time!”

“He never said!” Liam said. He pointed back at Louis but supported an open grin. “And I didn’t ask.”

“Oh come _on_ , Liam. He was always talking about that-- that boy. What was his name? That music student with the strange hair. He was _always_ with him.” The boy was quiet and kind, but only lasted a month. Harry said the boy didn’t like any of the group and dumped him soon after.

“I figured they were good friends.”

“He used to sleepover in his room!” Louis laughed, remembering Harry’s many early turn-ins that had him walking across campus to the boy’s room. “Those weren’t _bruises_ on his neck, Liam. C’mon.”

“Look, I didn’t want to offend him by asking.”

“Instead you bloody asked him if he was pulling that girl from his class.” Louis was in tears again, but the heaviness in his chest was momentarily relieved. “The fucking look on your _face_.”

“Shit, I looked so stupid.”

“Niall almost _choked_.” Louis recalled, snorting with laughter.

They had been sitting in the dining hall, waiting for Harry to arrive back from his poetry class-- the gayest class, Harry argued once to Liam. He arrived with said girl, both of them engaged with their own conversation, but easily split once Harry reached their table. They welcomed him and Harry quickly left to grab food, Louis pushing Niall to the other side of the table to make room for Harry beside him. Once returning, Liam began questioning him:

“Hey, how’s it going with her?” Louis couldn’t remember her name after nearly two years.

“Uh, fine.” Harry said, looking at Louis briefly with confusion. He and Louis had confided their sexualities to each other by the end of orientation-- Louis did because Harry was taking pamphlets on LGBT clubs on campus and trusted him to hold his secret before he told any of his sisters, and Harry by leaning over and laughing about the cute orientation leader they had. “She’s got a lot of homework. I think?”

“Homework, huh?” Liam laughed. “She into you?”

“Uh, I dunno.” Harry answered. “It’s not really relevant. I wouldn’t date her.”

“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Liam laughed, eyes going wide. Niall coughed into his coffee cup, choking on his sip. He swung his arm out and nailed Liam in the chest, trying to silence him with a stern look. “It’s a fair question!”

“Well,” Harry said slowly. Louis would never forget his delivery: Harry tucked his growing hair behind his ear, one hand unevenly painted with chipping polish, and tisked quietly. The table was hanging on every word, Niall and Louis _waiting_ and Liam still incredulous and awaiting an excuse. “I don’t think there’s anything _wrong_ perse...” Harry smirked and cocked an eyebrow at Liam. “I’d just much rather be fucking her boyfriend.”

Liam’s face drained of all color as Harry grinned at him, beginning to eat his dinner calmly. Louis nearly threw up laughing and Niall simply looked at Liam with the same firm glare. He really had no idea prior to, which constantly blew Louis away. Many people often spotted Harry from miles away, sizing him up on one glance and Harry wanting it that way. It was more surprising too, even to Louis years later, that Liam heard all the rumors and names being thrown around by his teammates about Harry and refused to believe them unless on genuine merit. There was something admirable and horrifically stupid about the whole thing.

After that, Liam was more vocal to his team about cutting it with the f-slur, and went on four dates with the girl from Harry’s class after she broke up with the other guy (wherein Harry then got his swing at the boyfriend), so it all worked itself out. It even gained Harry the right to repeatedly “forget” Liam was straight. It was a harmless gag they had all started adopting; Louis would have to tell Zayn the story next time they met.

“So, you really don’t think Zayn’s gay?” Louis asked, turning to face Liam. “Don’t feel anything?”

“Do _you_ feel anything?” Liam asked in return, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, did you get… _vibes_?” He prodded Louis' arm jokingly.

“Well, _I_ certainly didn’t.” Louis shrugged with delibrate coyness.

“You can’t just say that and not explain.” Liam said. “What does that mean? A signal? What?”

“I think maybe Niall did.” Louis said. He folded his hands and rested them on his stomach. “Didn’t you see? Zayn was definitely flirting with him.”

Liam scoffed. “Don’t mistake Niall being friendly for him being into anyone. He’s not a very good flirt. We all know this.” He was, but Louis wasn’t going to tell Liam that. Louis had been on the receiving end of a few slurred compliments last Halloween, and he had to say, Niall was definitely not the worst flirt. That award was obviously reserved for the man who spent more time flirting with a fake boyfriend than the boy he was actually in love with. “He still hasn’t done it, you know.”

Louis shook his head, humming in disagreement. “That’s not true.”

“How would you know?” Liam asked, suddenly suspicious. “What does Niall tell you he doesn’t tell me?”

“He’s just quiet.” Louis said. “He, Harry, and I have had a few chats. In the stands of one of your games a year ago. He’s dated a few people in college.”

“All women?”

“I didn’t _ask_ .” Louis sighed, slapping Liam’s arm. “But, with only gay men around him, it was hard not to picture that he _was_ talking about some men.” Louis was guilty in projecting himself on Niall as he recounted floundering freshman crushes and timid first lovers; he could only imagine every single one with the same curly head of hair.

“Huh.” Liam’s head fell back onto the mattress as he muttered. “You think we ought to set him up with someone?”

“No. No matchmaker. We’re _done_ doing that.” Louis grumbled. “We’ve all seen how shit I am at that-- especially with myself.”

“Yeah, broke Harry’s heart and then only _pretended_ to get someone like Zayn.” Liam agreed. “I think maybe you should resign from attempting to date at all.”

“Or maybe I should just focus my effort on dating real people.” Louis grumbled, rolling onto his side. He rested his head on Liam’s shoulder, trying to find the tiniest sliver of comfort in the vastness of his grief. Liam placed a hand on his head, letting him settle beside him.

“I’m really sorry, Louis.” Liam said after a moment. It wasn’t fair to assume he had any words in his arsenal to deal with such a disaster. “It’ll get better. Things have a way of working themselves out.”

“Maybe another time.” Louis echoed, Harry’s regretful and tense voice ringing in his ears. Harry’s had more sincerity to it, more certainty. And he ended it with the sweetest word Louis could ever to hope die hearing one day: _baby_. But instead of it filling Louis with possibility and promise, it felt like Harry was sealing their death certificate. He was only saying it because he knew it would be his only chance.

* * *

Louis moved from Liam’s bed to rest on his absent roommate’s sheetless mattress. The plastic mattress stuck to his skin as he restlessly shifted, Louis breaking out in a mixture of cold sweats and embarrassing panic. Liam most likely had morning plans, but he remained in bed on his side of the room, not wanting to disturb Louis' pity party. Eventually though, the morning ended and the rest of the world crashed the party.

Louis' phone vibrated first, but he ignored it; he didn’t even want to know if it was Harry or his mother or his professors. Louis wanted to be dead to the world until at least Christmas. His phone buzzed in his pocket repeatedly before finally fading into still silence.

“Louis,” Liam said. He was rolled on his side, holding his phone in front of him. It only had to chime once. “Niall says to answer your goddamn phone.”

“Why?” Louis groaned. He lifted the arm he had hanging over his face to look at Liam.

“He wants to come over-- I’ll get him up here.” Liam said. He climbed out of bed and unlocked the door. “He wants to see how your morning went.”

“I don’t want to relive it.” Louis said. “Tell him to fuck off.”

Liam put his phone down. “You can tell him that yourself. He’s literally in the lobby now.”

Louis wanted to pull a blanket over his head or be able to duck under a pillow, but he was left out in the open. He watched Liam walk around his dorm, readying himself and the room for the rest of his day. Louis got the hint but was still unwilling to sit up. He’d wait until Niall walked in and dragged him to his feet before even considering the thought.

The room was tidied and Liam was completely gussied for a day of public viewing when Niall knocked.

“Yeah.” Liam answered, fixing the sleeves of his shirt. “It’s open, Niall.”

“And guest.” A voice added, coming in the door first. Zayn was possibly the last person Louis wanted to see. Actually, second to last.

“Hey, thought you had work this morning.” Liam said, holding his arms out to hug both boys.

“Department didn’t need me there today so I got let off early today.” Zayn shrugged. “Perfect timing though. Now I can correctly break up with Louis, right?” He was all too pleased about being Louis’ second heartbreak of the day. All three of them turned to Louis, none of them having the courage to speak. They studied him with collected confusion and pity.

“Everything went well, right?” Niall asked, voice wavering. “I mean, you’re tired from having the best morning four years could offer, right? _Right_?”

“Niall. Don’t be so naive. Please.” Louis groaned. “You know what happened.” There wasn’t a way that Liam didn’t text him the entire sob story down to every groan, sigh, and swear.

“I told him my half of the story, we were curious of yours.” Zayn said. He folded his arms and leaned against the closed door. “I think it went well.”

“Well, it did if the plan was to get him to sleep with _you_ .” Louis said. “Harry noticed the running theme between us-- and it wasn’t how much we loved _each other_.”

“Did you flirt with Harry the entire time?” Niall asked, eyebrows shooting up. He crossed his own arms. “Nice going. I leave you for ten minutes--”

“Maybe I was a bit too ‘wingman’ rather than ‘boyfriend’. Not my fault you got yourself in such a fucking predicament.” Zayn defended himself with a firm voice, but spoke quietly. “I hope you explained the truth. Finally.”

“Oh I did.” Louis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could still see Harry’s eyes taking in every inch of Louis as he self-destructed, rambling and smiling like a fool. _Baby._ “And he’s already got a boyfriend.”

Zayn and Niall remained silent, crossing and uncrossing their arms uncomfortably. Niall opened his mouth and inhaled, but quickly shut his mouth and sighed at Zayn’s pointed glare. Liam had already said his piece, had already talked Louis down into accepting his new supporting role, but bounced on the balls of his feet like he was on the hook for more advice. They were all looking to talk away Louis’ new situation, cure him with some positive thinking, but there wasn’t a cure now; Louis was just going to let it kill him.

“It’s alright, guys. I don’t really want to talk about it.” Louis pushed himself up for the first time in hours. The blood rush spotted his vision and altered his balance.

“Did you meet the boyfriend too?” Zayn asked. “I mean, do you need me around more often? Show him up?”

“We’d like you around for more than that.” Louis said, smiling weakly. Louis was actively thinking about ways to leave the country indefinitely to avoid Harry, and was looking for his American replacement. Zayn seemed more than appropriate and would fit in nicely. He’d never have a flaring heartache for any of their friends, slowly tearing the group down the middle with dragging feet and stubborn attitude.

“What can we do, Louis?” Liam asked. “I mean, what’ll help you?”

“I’m not going to tell you guys how to live.” Louis sighed, pushing himself off the bed and onto his feet. “You can meet the boyfriend. You can love him if you want. I have to be happy for him. And I am.”

Liam nodded slowly. “How badly do you want to smoke right now?”

“It’s _actually_ hurting me.” Louis answered quickly, laughing shortly. “But I’m reserving all my willpower for when I actually need it.” The willpower to not immediately despise a random stranger was easily as much as it took Louis to (temporarily) quit smoking the first time. He’d gather the strength one cigarette at a time.

“God fucking bless you.” Liam said, shaking his head. “But other than crippling shame and debilitating jealousy, how are we this morning?” He turned to the other boys.

“Better now, strictly by association.” Zayn teased, reaching out to pull Louis closer to them. “I mean, I’m not working in that stuffy office and I’m in a healthy, reciprocated relationship so… can’t complain.”

“Now you’re just being an asshole.” Louis said, glaring at him. “All of you can fuck off.”

“Sorry.” Zayn said, squeezing Louis’ shoulder. “We’re all here for you.”

There was nothing about Louis’ pitiful situation that required support. He didn’t need to be sat with on the floor, occupied with smalltalk and well fed through out the morning and early afternoon. Louis wasn’t facing a hard breakup or devastation. He was grieving something that was never real; he was correcting his memory. That shouldn’t have taken interest in mending his heart. It was Louis’ hands that were bloody.

In their first attempts, they talked about home. Liam said he was trying to figure out dates to drive up to see his family for a day or two around Christmas . Niall didn’t want to fly home at all. He wasn’t upset with his parents or avoiding them, he just seemed all too pleased to be staying in DC as long as possible. Niall grinned at the prospect of spending Christmas with their growing group of friends. It was better than family, Louis had to admit. He loved his mother and missed his sisters and brother more than anything, but there was something liberating about staying at school.

They had all talked about doing it one semester-- the four of them all staying put and having the freedom of college without any of the classes for three weeks. Niall was always around, Liam was able to stay on campus with the winter athletes even though he was a spring player only, Harry made every excuse in the book to stay in America longer, and Louis explained to his family he wanted some time to be himself by himself. Louis had planned on spending all that free time catching up on lost time with Harry, or finally gathering the courage to tell him how he felt. Instead, Louis already saw the hours he’d spend regretting his actions in a freezing cold bedroom. Romantic.

“Is Harry still pretending calls home are only one-way?” Liam asked the group, knowing better than to directly ask Louis.

“I think so, yeah.” Niall said, grimace curling his lip. “He’s avoiding the discussion of _after graduation_ again.”

“Aren’t we all.” Louis muttered. “I’m not ready to move back home.”

“I’m not ready to have you and Harry halfway across the globe.” Liam admitted. “That’s gonna be so fucking weird.”

“Maybe I’ll stay.”

“I can have an apartment with a spare room by May.” Niall said, reaching over to grab Louis’ hands. “You can’t leave.”

“What about Harry?” Louis asked Niall, lifting an eyebrow. “Doesn’t he get to stay?”

“Well, I’m sure he’d just live with his boyfriend.” Liam answered nonchalantly, the words already natural.

Niall released Louis’ hands to slap Liam’s arm repeatedly. Even sitting down, Zayn was able to grab Niall around the waist and yank them apart. The tender moment dissolved in the uncomfortable tension between Liam’s words and Louis’ sinking heart, and the discomfort of Niall shoving Zayn’s hands off of him. They sat in silence, the family uncomfortable with their own dysfunction.

The bravest one to break the silence was Niall’s phone. It chimed in his pocket and everyone was eager to see who it was from, from nothing else but to have someone else to talk about.

“It’s Harry.” Niall said apologetically. “I’ll read it later.”

“Read it now.” Louis said, waving his worry off. “He needs you for something.”

Niall grabbed his phone out of his pocket and opened the message, mumbling it under his breath as he read it. He stopped and stared at it with slight confusion. They all waited, Liam hitting his knee with impatience. Zayn leaned over and read it aloud before anyone snapped and grabbed the phone.

“ _My friend wants to go out for a beer tonight. Didn’t know if you’d want to come too and bring the boy.”_ He said.

“Boys, obviously.” Niall corrected, quickly locking his phone. “You guys are obviously invited--”

Louis’ phone vibrated under his leg, once, twice, three times. Harry definitely didn’t think he was going to read them.

_Hey_

_Casper wants to go out for drinks and meet everyone tonight instead of tomorrow. If any of the boys ask you, know it’s going to be with Casper too._

_I didn’t want to ambush you if you don’t want to meet him yet x_

Louis thought about responding, of how many letters it would take before he’d have all the nails in his coffin, before he placed his phone down. It buzzed again. Harry knew when he was upset.

_You’re still my boy_

Louis stared at the four words. Beside him, Niall and Zayn discussed if they should introduce Zayn at the bar-- they seemed to disagree about what was a “right time”. Liam was watching Louis, hand reaching out to touch his leg.

“Everything okay?” He asked. “Home need you?”

“No.” Louis said, answering both. “It’s Harry.”

“Harry?” Liam echoed. Niall and Zayn stopped, hands still lifted in conversation but frozen between them. “What did he say?”

“He told me that you guys are going to meet his boyfriend tonight.” Louis said. “And gave me an out if I didn’t want to.”

“He did?” Niall asked. “That’s considerate.”

Liam kept staring. “What else did he say?”

“That’s all.” Louis lied. Knowing he was Harry’s-- he _still was_ Harry’s-- was something he wanted to keep to himself. If anyone else knew, it would feel just as embarrassing as having Louis’ feelings out in the open. At least if the words stayed with Louis, squeezing his heart, he’d be able to protect himself. “He just doesn’t want me to be surprised.”

“You aren’t going, obviously.” Liam said. “Right?”

“He has to, doesn’t he?” Niall said quietly. “I mean, that’s the nice thing.”

“Fuck the nicest thing.” Louis said sharply. “I don’t want this guy thinking he’s got something over us-- over me. We love Harry too.”

“Some _more_ than others.” Liam muttered. The rest of the room glared, but his grin remained. “Come on. That’s the only reason you _are_ going. He’s gonna know that.”

No. Louis was going because he was a good friend. He was a polite, level-headed friend who was going to meet the boy making his best friend happy. Louis was going because he was a good person. He was not, by any means, going because he was still Harry’s boy. That’d be in poor taste.

Good thing smoking ruined his palate.

* * *

Niall answered Harry’s text and got the time and place for the unfortunate date. They were supposed to meet Harry at 9pm downtown in a familiar sounding bar on H. Just under twelve hours since Louis had even heard of this boyfriend and he already had to meet him face-to-face. Louis wondered how long it had been since Casper had even heard of _him_. The thought that Harry might not have mentioned him at all curdled his appetite. He made sure to grab a fuller pack of cigarettes from his room before rejoining the group, minus Zayn. The “right time” turned out to not be the beginnings of Louis’ one-man civil war.

For some reason, Harry got to have a break from seeing new boyfriends, but they all had to grin and bear it. Well, only Louis had to. Both Niall and Liam seemed genuinely excited. Every other boyfriend had made Louis feel that same elated way for Harry, but now every step toward the bar was treading over Louis’ exposed heart.

The walk to the bar was far too short. Granted, it was fifteen minutes on foot in the blistering cold but Louis didn’t have enough time to swallow his pride before spotting the bar’s deep red storefront: The Queen Vic. Of course Harry’s boyfriend wanted to meet them in one of the only authentic British pubs in the area. He had to be cultured, didn’t he? Although, Louis never considered the possibility he was British-- maybe he was. Maybe they grew up in towns even closer than Harry and Louis. What if he was a better fit for Harry?

Louis took a long final drag on his cigarette and promised himself that it wasn’t possible.

“Alright, he said he’d be sitting at the end of the bar.” Niall said before they stepped inside.

“Following you.” Liam said, pushing the door open for them. Louis flicked the butt of his cigarette onto the sidewalk before ducking inside behind Niall.

The pub was moderately packed, the bar filled all the way down to the swinging kitchen door and a few tables by the doors filled. Niall squeezed between the pushed out chairs and wall toward the end of the bar seating. Louis kept close behind him, hoping to avoid making eye contact with either Harry or his boyfriend first.

“Blondie!” Harry cried. Over Niall’s head, Louis can see familiar hands raised in the air. One was holding a beer and the other was waving Niall forward with wiggling fingers. “Thanks for coming out!”

“Of course, of course! Any friend of yours is a friend of mine.” Niall moved and revealed Louis and Liam weaving through the crowd. “Brought the boys.”

Harry looked at Louis and seemed to sigh outwardly. His smile was filled with relief. “Just these two?”

“I don’t have any other friends.” Niall said with unknown firmness. Harry lifted his hands and nodded in surrender. Louis said nothing, feeling like he was eavesdropping, and Liam missed the strange interaction. “Maybe another time.” He said softer.

“Fair enough, fair enough-- Liam! Thanks for coming.” Harry reached over and hugged the boy, one arm wrapping around him as the other held his beer away from spilling on his back. Harry moved to Niall second before reaching for Louis. They both hesitated, using the shuffling of the crowd to rethink their actions. Eventually, Louis held his arms out too. Harry’s hand splayed out across his shoulders firmly, and their chins hooked on each other’s shoulders. Louis tried not to lean into the touch and commit to the embrace longer than appropriate. They both seemed to inhale at the same time, sighing against the other. They pulled away and Harry’s hand drug across his back to hold Louis’ waist and keeping him close. “Thank you.”

Louis stepped back and joined Niall and Liam in scanning the bar. “Where’s your friend?” He asked. He didn’t want to delay the inevitable. If he braced himself, the impact would be far less.

“Oh, he’s back here.” Harry thumbed over his shoulder. He started backtracking a few seats, arriving at the final two at the end of the bar. “Casper, the cavalry has arrived.” Harry placed his and on the man’s back, causing him to turn around and face them.

His features were all strong, cheeks poking forward and jaw cutting downward sharply. Even his haircut was close and clean, along a very defined fade. The hair left long on the top was dark and slick, falling flat against the top of his head. It matched his dark clothes and worn leather jacket, but contrasted harshly against Harry’s loose curls and brightly patterned shirt. Overall, there was very little that was soft about Casper’s appearance, but his smile was wide and genuine as he faced the three of them.

“Wow, Harry, you never told me they were so beautiful.” Great, a fucking charmer. American at least. “I’m Casper.” He held his hand out to Liam first. “Harry’s boyfriend.”

“No shit.” Liam said with a laugh. “Fucking hell.” He took Casper’s hand firmly with an incredulous grin on his face. Louis stomped on his foot as they all shuffled into a huddle around him. “Sorry.”

“That’s alright.” Casper took the shock with far too much grace. “I get that a lot.”

“Wow. Humble too.” Louis muttered. The urge to grab another cigarette burned in the tips of his fingers, but he had to keep his hands free to shake with Casper. As he reached forward to grab Casper’s hand, Louis didn’t want to think about where it had been-- tangled in Harry’s hair, gently pressed against his back, softly cupped against his cheek. “Nice to meet you.”

“This is Louis.” Harry said to Casper. His hands rested on Casper’s shoulders as he spoke to him, allowing his posture to morph into one more of a perched parrot than an independent boyfriend. “I’ve told you stories about him.” He better have.

“That you have. I remember some of them well.” He said. Louis tried to wipe the guilt from his face with a short, empty laugh. Their handshake was slick as Louis’ palms began sweating. “Glad someone’s around to support his art.”

“Oh, yeah.” Louis smiled. “He really is incredible, isn’t he?”

“He really is.” Casper released Louis’ hand in favor of reaching up to pinch Harry’s chin. Harry preened with the affection, smiling more than Louis had seen in the past three weeks. It was amazing how much the heart could swell when it was given the space to feel love. They kissed quickly, the soft brush of their lips punching Louis squarely in the stomach.

“Can I get anyone a drink?” Louis asked, already trying to busy himself. “Niall, Liam? Just a pint all right?”

“No no no. Please, I dragged you guys all the way out here in freezing weather. It’s on me.” Casper cut in, quickly turning back to them. Harry’s eyes stayed on his face, eyes warmly tracking the movement of his lips as he spoke. “It’s the very least I can do. Warm you up with a few drinks, right? Niall, what’s your choice?”

“Eh, nothing for me tonight. I have something later.” He said shaking his head. “But, thank you.”

“Oh c’mon.” Casper insisted, taking his arm. “Harry tells me you’re a wild card. I want to see this side. Get a drink in you.”

“He’s a _what_?” Liam laughed. He pushed himself up on a newly emptied barstool. It left Niall and Louis standing in front of Liam and Casper while Harry hovered by Casper’s shoulder. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

“You don’t want to know what he says about you.” Casper teased. Harry hid his smirk with his beer bottle, taking a long sip as Liam eyed him. “I’m only joking. Only joking.” He winked at Liam and suddenly all was forgiven. Fuck, he was dangerously charming. “Honest, you guys sound like you’ve been having the best time. Wish my six years went like that.”

“Six?” Niall said. “Grad program too?”

“No, still an undergrad.” Casper said with a shrug. Casper’s age suddenly showed in his strong features; easily only a few years older than them, but noticeably so. “I was only able to start going full-time recently. Working and traveling home and gap years really drag your degree out a bit.” He said with an easy laugh. “But, we’re getting there.”

“What’s the plan?” Niall asked. “You in the history department with Harry?”

“God no. Bio, actually.” Casper answered. “As if med school won’t take me long enough, I’m dragging my fucking feet.” Oh, fuck. Harry was dating a _doctor_. Why didn’t Louis just give up already? His Communications degree shriveled in intimidation.

“Med school? Oh wow.” Liam looked at Harry with raised eyebrows. “You snagged a good one, Harold.”

“I’ll be sitting real pretty with this one.” Harry joked, lifting his beer. “I mean, I do that already but. I could always be prettier.”

The boys laughed and Louis had to disguise his discomfort in a bubble of laughter. It rose in his throat and slid over his tongue, thick and bitter tasting. It went unnoticed in the bar’s growing chatter. Louis didn’t want to be that guy; angry at his best friend’s boyfriend, but there was an undercurrent of competition that Louis just couldn’t shake. Louis wasn’t sure if it was between Casper and all of them or Casper and Louis specifically. He couldn’t tell if he was making it all up in his head-- along with all the different ways he could launch himself into oncoming traffic with the least painful results.

After their first round of drinks were down to their last frothy sips, they moved from the bar to a table at the back corner. They crowded around the table, Harry and Casper sitting in a booth while Liam, Niall, and Louis sat in chairs. Louis was at the head of the table between Niall and Casper. He had another full pint resting in front of him and his pack of cigarettes resting beside it simply for comfort. He didn’t want to leave the bar to smoke one, letting the situation slip from his control and unravel in his mind. He settled for getting short whiffs of the tobacco as he rubbed his fingers along the paper lining.

Across the table, Harry was watching his hands with a tightly furrowed expression. Louis was waiting for the scold or the judgmental look, but Harry looked away from his hands to look at his own beer. He twisted the bottle, the wet label peeling off in his palm. He retreated from the conversation momentarily, looking between both his and Louis’ hands. He never noticed Louis’ watching him; Harry thought it was his own secret.

Smoking was normal for Louis, but the pattern of needing to do so in stressful situations was unignorable. Harry knew what it meant for Louis to be contemplating the escape, but also knew what it meant for him to be there anyway. He looked torn by the responsibility and power suddenly in his hands. Louis lifted his hand from the pack of cigarettes and lifted it to rest under his chin. Their eyes finally met and Harry was startled by Louis’ stare.

They weren’t able to say anything across the current conversation, but Louis was comforted by the knowledge Harry would understand anyway. Harry had said the sentiment earlier, and now Louis was saying it back: _You’re still my boy._ He’d come to a bar and sit with his boyfriend and make nice for a whole evening if it meant Harry was happy. He’d swallow the grenade if it meant everyone else got to live.

“Louis?” Casper waved a hand in front of his face. “You still with us? That pint hitting you hard?”

“No. No. I’m okay.” Louis said, blinking away from Harry’s face. “Just really want a smoke is all.”

“You know, as a doctor I’m inclined to tell you that smoking kills.” Casper nudged Louis’s arm.

“Yeah. I know.” Louis tried to sound amused. “If I’m lucky.”

“Pardon?”

“Lucky to have you around.” Louis said, clenching his jaw to try and give the appearance he was smiling. He could feel his jaw and teeth begin to ache as Casper took the sentiment with a gracious smile. He wasn’t even a doctor yet, the arrogant dick.

“How did you two meet?” Niall asked quickly, changing the subject. “Always a good one, right?”

“Oh, it’s quite the story,” Casper laughed with a strange sort of pride. Everyone else at the table heard it as endearment, even Harry leaning into his side. “We had an Ecology seminar together this semester. Harry sat in the front row, and I was a few seats down. I had no idea who he was, but I mean, I wasn’t oblivious to him. Look at him.” He looped an arm around Harry’s shoulders and kept him close.

“What made you start talking?” Niall asked. He was smiling fondly, the story warming the table’s hearts. Except for Louis’ but that might have just been the cigarettes.

“Harold here, was blind as a fucking bat in a class that is all notes written on a blackboard.” Casper said.

“My contacts were irritating me by the time I got to class so I took them out-- and didn’t have my glasses with me. So I was stranded in the first row, seat nine, squinting at the board. It didn’t even look like English at the time.”

“And naturally, since I’m _always_ looking at him, I noticed he was having a rough day. So I offered to give him my notes after class if he just wanted to listen.”

“We ended up talking through the entire lecture and missing all of it.” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know how we passed that class. We were the worst influence on each other.”

“Studying, review, note sharing… It all eventually started ending the same way.” Casper said lowly before sipping his beer. He winked at them and Louis tightened his jaw again, if nothing but to stop himself from vomiting.

“You met because Harry forgot his glasses? That’s incredible.” Niall said. He was enamored with the story and their affection. Louis felt horrible for being the only sour one at the table.

“How did you meet your boyfriend?” Casper asked Niall. The table stilled; Liam had his eyebrows lifted and drink quickly going up to his mouth, Harry looked at Casper with furrowed eyebrows, Niall blinked at Casper quickly, and Louis pursed his lips waiting to see Casper spit his foot back out of his own mouth. “Wait wait. I’m sorry. That’s not you-- Louis, it’s you, right? I heard you’ve got a nice boyfriend.”

“Yeah.” Louis made sure he looked only at Harry. “A real dream.”

“Can’t believe he’s real.” Liam mumbled.

“Tell us about him!” Casper grabbed Louis’ arm and squeezed it repeatedly. “Come on.”

“I’d rather not. He’s a pretty private person.” Louis said. Niall and Liam were downing their drinks with enough speed to warrant Harry ordering a round of water in the silene. “But he’s all I got.”

“I think that’s kind of sweet, don’t you?” Casper cooed, turning to Harry. “Something that’s just theirs: each other.” He kissed Harry deeply, his hand gripping his waist and tugging him closer again. Obviously, no matter how cute Casper thought it was, he wasn’t going to keep to himself.

“I’ll be right back.” Louis said, all mouths at the table unable to argue his departure either with a drink or betrayal. “Need a smoke.”

“I’ll come with you.” Niall said, volunteering. “I, uh, need one too.”

“Niall--” Liam started, reaching for his arm. “Easy on them, yeah?”

The facade didn’t matter much. As Louis grabbed his pack of cigarettes from the table, Casper and Harry were yet to detach themselves long enough to hear his excuse. Niall and Louis were able to slip back through the crowd and out to the sidewalk without a single objection.

Louis leaned against a window ledge and cupped the flame around the end of his cigarette. Niall stood beside him, arms crossed and shivering in the brisk wind starting up.

“Do you actually want a drag?” Louis held it out to Niall. He directed his stream of smoke away from the boy’s face as he spoke. “I thought you hated the smell.”

“Eh, it doesn’t bother me much now. Besides, I don’t want you to be alone.” Niall said. “You don’t seem to be having much of a good time.”

“Where would you get that idea?” Louis snapped, rolling his eyes. Niall set his jaw and stared back at him with pursed lips. “Sorry. I know. You just want to help.”

“Harry said you didn’t have to come.” Niall reminded him. “You don’t have to stay. I can cover for you if you want to leave.”

“No. I can’t just fucking run away.” Louis muttered, taking another drag. “Casper isn’t going to go away it looks, so I might as well figure out a way to like him.”

“Or at least learn to fake a smile, man.” Niall teased, elbowing Louis’ side. “You look ready for murder.”

“A keen observation.” Louis said. He was trying his hardest, and could feel himself getting along with Casper-- or Casper at least thinking he was getting along with him-- and it wasn’t completely painful. It was easier to let Harry go than Louis ever thought. The realization should have been a relief, but Louis only felt sick. It only took one poorly planned boyfriend and their friendship could be split in two unequally unhappy parts.

Louis stubbed out his cigarette, suddenly feeling nauseous. His throat felt dry and gritty, his last drag sitting heavy before clouding out his mouth. He had a full pint waiting for him at the table; it could soothe his sour stomach and loosen his tongue and the words refusing to cross it. The evening couldn’t last much longer than another round. The faster Louis finished his drink, the faster he could politely be finished for the night. He wanted to be out of the bar before he saw either Harry or Casper make any move or comment about going home together. After a single drink, Harry lost most depth-perception; he was _always_ touching something.

“Are you ready to go back in?” Niall asked, rubbing his arms for warmth. Louis sighed and tipped his body into Niall’s side. He rested his head on his shoulder momentarily, letting himself be hopelessly furious for one more minute before standing up straight.

“Yeah. Let’s go back.”

“You’re a better man than all of us.” Niall said, placing a hand on his back. He pushed him into the bar despite Louis going willingly.

The table was bursting with laughter as they returned; they seemed to have a better time in their absence. Louis sat down and picked up his beer. He raised his eyebrows in the hopesnof being filled in.

“I’m trying to hear some stories about Harry!” Casper said with a grin. His cheeks were flushed red and his hands were more needily grabbing at Harry’s shoulders as he pulled him into his side. “He couldn’t have been such a perfect gentleman from day one.”

“Is he that now?” Liam snorted, sipping his own pint. “Don’t think I’ve met that side.”

“That’s because you haven’t dated me.” Harry said with a wink. “Blondie knows what I’m talking about.”

“Please stop calling our lunches ‘dates’, people are going to start taking you seriously.” Niall said, still settling back in his seat. “I don’t need word going around I went on a date with Harry Styles; I have someone that will be very upset with me.”

“Okay, I’ll keep our dates more private.” Harry reached over the table and squeezed Niall’s hand and winked. Casper watched with a still expression, not frowning but his smile no longer being supported by any pleasant emotion.

Louis cleared his throat, trying to change the strange expressions on both Casper and Niall’s faces. He felt responsible to cause conversation, have something fond to contribute. “Uh, has Harry ever told you about Valentine’s Day our freshman year?”

“NO!” Harry gasped, pointing at Louis. “You wouldn’t! That’s so bloody embarrassing.”

“Oh no you _have_ to tell this story.” Liam cried, hitting the table with his fingers. “I wish I was there for it.”

“What did you do, Harold?” Casper asked, turning and pressing his nose into Harry’s cheek before kissing it softly. “Valentine’s Day? Do I want to know?”

“He was asked out. Via song.” Louis said with a smile, remembering the day well. They were barely old enough to live alone, and slowly falling in love but completely clueless to it. Back then, it was better not knowing. “It was the most beautiful song and there was actually a guitar too--”

“I saw the guitarist practicing all week in my one strings class but I had _no idea_.” Niall added, pointing at Harry. He had his hands already up to cover his blushing cheeks. “I wish I could have stopped it.”

“Harry and I are out in the courtyard having lunch.” Louis thought back to the afternoon. He could remember sticky hands and a sourness on his lips. He remembered gentle brushing of fingers and bumping of knees. “Sharing lunch, I think?”

“Yes, a fucking _granny smith apple_. Because you are disgusting.” Harry corrected, pointing at Louis and trying to suppress a smile. Their fingers had wrapped around the apple together, trying to keep the single napkin they had around the fruit to not get juice all over their hands. It failed and they ended up dripping it all over their pants and shoes, some even running down their chins to be swiped off by the other’s anxious hand.

“It’s not my fault you can’t enjoy the finer things in life.” Louis countered, scoffing. “Man only likes Pink Ladies.”

“Have you _met_ me.” Harry cried, laughing with a new, loose hilarity. “It’s the only ladies I like.”

“You ate that apple willingly.” Louis said firmly. Harry also jokingly offered to lick the apple juice off of Louis’ hands too. The joke was that he wouldn’t do it in public.

“Guys, the story.” Liam said, hitting Louis’ arm across the table. “We don’t care about the apple.”

“Excuse me, it’s the core of the story.” Harry giggled. He was on at _least_ drink three. His hands were more comfortably resting on Casper’s arm, but his vision stayed focused on Louis. His eyes drifted from Louis’ eyes but never went to anyone else.

“Point is, we were sharing like, three different things,” Their lunch, the bench, and past horrible date stories. ”obviously spending our Valentine’s Day nicely situated outside the closet that year, and this guitarist comes up to us… and then this sweet girl neither of us knew.” Louis continued. Casper’s smile finally picked up, watching Louis already start to laugh at the story. “And she starts going. She was really talented and it was a beautiful song but… I mean…” Louis waved out toward Harry who was beat red again.

Casper started laughing. “Oh, yeah. I know.” He said. “What was he wearing? For the complete visual.” He tugged on the sleeve of Harry’s loud shirt.

“Red pants and these fucking bright braces… What was it on the back?” Louis waved his hand out to Niall. He gestured the shape, a mouthful of beer and choking laughter interrupting. “Oh wait, the bloody cross-clip was a _heart_.”

“So he was looking particularly heterosexual.” Casper said with a tisk.

“Doesn’t he always?” Louis squinted at Casper, pretending to be convinced. His outfit and the adoring eyes watching Louis were enough to convince anyone in the courtyard-- well, just about.

“Well, he doesn’t do quite a good job as you.” Casper waved toward Louis. The motion was loose and vague, enough to be missed by Harry and Liam taking a sip from their drink in the lull. Louis and Niall exchanged a look before going back to their own drinks. Louis never made a concerted effort to dress himself down. It was strange Casper made it a point to notice.

“Yeah, uh, so she finishes singing and the courtyard has collected this little crowd around her. They are clapping and cheering and someone hands her flowers to give to Harry-- oh it was _painful_.” Louis continued. “And she went up to him and was so excited and asked him out on a proper date. And Harry sat there. In silent shock--”

“For _three minutes_.” Niall added. “I thought the entire earth was frozen.” Louis didn’t even notice Niall had been around until they were all comparing stories a year later, catching Liam up. Harry and Louis always had very tame descriptions of their flirtations back then, and Niall was the best witness against every attempt at denial.

“What did you do?” Casper asked.

“I very politely and quietly told her thank you but no thank you.” Harry said, crossing his arms. He tucked his hair behind his ear and smoothed the front of his shirt. “And then she slapped me across the face.” Louis could still hear the sound firm and sharp in his ear. He swore he heard ringing for the rest of the day.

“She didn't!” Casper gasped, covering his mouth. “She slapped you?”

“Enough to knock him over.” Louis added. “He fell into me and we both almost broke something.” Harry’s elbow connected firmly with Louis’ nose, dying a thin stripe in his shirt deep red, and Harry’s arm bent awkwardly to stop his fall. Luckily, they escaped without a single visible scar.

“The next day Harry shows up to dinner with a swollen wrist and Louis’ got this bruised up nose!” Niall said, gesturing on his own face the bruising that spread over the bridge of Louis’ nose. “You can imagine what we all thought.”

“Had that reputation for a while, huh?” Casper said with a short laugh. It sounded bitter, but the liquor sloshing in Louis’ cup might have been sloshing a bit too much between his ears as well.

“What reputation is that?” Louis asked, lifting an eyebrow. Harry was known for getting guys, but not for sleeping around. He wasn’t a phone number scrawled in a bathroom stall or an easy cruise at football games; he liked going on dates and doing romantic things for his boyfriends. Hearing Harry gush about first and second dates was what made the boyfriends tolerable for Louis in the first place. “After Valentine’s Day, Harry was known as the secretly closeted guy on campus for a bit. And that’s not really the right reputation.” Louis redirected.

Casper nodded. There was a look of approval disguised by a tight-lipped smile. Their refusal to tease Harry in the company of his boyfriend about his ability to flirt well with men was a test they all didn’t know they were passing. Louis got a grin and seal of approval before Casper’s eyes left to travel between Liam and Niall.

As Liam started his story about accidentally missing every purposeful signal from Harry that he was gay, Casper clocked Liam’s posture and his movements. They were unthreatening and casual: hitting Harry’s arm, pointing at him with a warm smile, clinking their beers. Liam passed the topic right along to something light about Harry, something the table didn’t seem to notice was preapproved. Two pints wasn’t enough to distort Louis’ vision, but he wasn’t entirely sure if he should have believed the disgruntled expression that spread over Casper’s face as his eyes landed on Niall.

Of all the people sitting at their table, Niall was the one least likely to stir up any trouble with or about Harry. The troublemakers were sitting on either side of Casper; one leaning their head on his shoulder and the other scrambling through every memory to try and remember what it felt like to look at Harry and not feel his chest constrict.

They all finished their drinks and final round of stories just as the bar began to get its late night rush. Louis had made it and he was still able to walk home in a straight line. It was just under a complete success-- total success would have been Casper leaving Harry halfway through his first beer. Small victories.

“Thank you for coming out, guys.” Harry said, holding his arms out to embrace each one of them. “I know it was so sudden and short notice, thank you.”

“Anytime.” Liam said, pulling away from Harry. He turned to Casper and held out his hand. “So great to meet you, man.”

Niall was next in line and got the same tight hug, but a slightly less enthused handshake from Casper.

Louis stood behind the three of them, forced into smiling. Harry waited until Louis lifted his arms to step forward. They slotted together again, chins hooking over the other’s shoulder and hands gripping jackets tightly. Louis kept his hands on Harry’s shoulders while Harry’s hands rested on his lower back.

“I really appreciate you coming, Louis.” Harry said softly. “I really do. He likes you.”

“I’m glad.” Louis said. He closed his eyes and resisted every instinct he had before responding. “Invite him to our Christmas plans-- whatever they are. I’ll ask Liam.”

“A-Are you sure?” Harry asked, pulling away. “Christmas is _our_ tradition.”

“And he’s part of that group now. Everyone gets a plus one, you know that.” For the past three years though, Harry and Louis had always brought each other.

“I’ll ask him.” Harry kissed Louis on the cheek quickly. It was a troubling new way for them to communicate in their word-binding relationship. It was going to send Louis to an early grave. “Thank you.”

“You’d do the same for me.” Louis said. Harry had for the past three years and it was only polite to return the favor and be the silent best friend. It seemed like Casper had a big enough mouth all his own. There didn’t need to be any spotlights on him to make everything be heard loud and clear, no matter what the intention. Louis could stay quiet if it meant he had more room to listen.

Louis walked home with Liam. Niall left separate to meet up with someone before it got too late, while Harry and Casper trailed behind them all. Louis tried not to hear Harry’s light laughter floating up into the stars, stretching around the night. It was like his single smile could cause a sun rise. They walked faster, nearly gaining on Niall up the street.

“What’d you think?” Louis asked. He pulled his jacket’s collar up, the thick fleece lining warming the back of his neck.

“He seemed alright.” Liam nodded.

“Be honest.”

“They’re a great fit.” Liam said, looking at Louis with a scrunched nose. “Sorry.”

“I knew you’d say that.” Louis could only laugh. “He’s quite charming, isn’t he?”

“I’m making it worse, aren’t I?” Liam sighed. He put his hands in his pockets and walked closer to the buildings. Louis hugged the curb.

“No. I have to get used to it. I can’t just be stood there waiting for him to open his bloody eyes for the rest of university.” Louis said, stepping down onto the street with every other step. “Might as well, yeah?”

“Yeah, good plan.” Liam said. He reached over and grabbed Louis’ arm, yanking him back up onto the sidewalk. He kept his arm looped through Louis’ as they kept walking, keeping him firmly in the center of the sidewalk despite no traffic on the road beside them.

“Oh, I told Harry he could bring Casper to our Christmas plans.” Louis said. “I don’t know if we had anything decided, but I invited him.”

“Oh, uh, I think we’re going to have it at Zayn’s. He isn’t doing anything for Christmas and said he’d let us have dinner there if we wanted. Either Christmas Eve or the day before.” Liam said. “I haven’t set everything up, but I could probably get it all by tomorrow and text you the details if you want.”

“That’d be great. Then I’ll tell Harry.” Louis said. “And he can… spread the word.” Spread was probably the worst (and most visual) word to use.

“You’re doing the right thing, Louis.” Liam bumped Louis’ side lightly, squeezing his arm. “Good for you.”

“I’m just trying to be a good friend. This isn’t for me. It’s for him.”

They stopped at the corner before jay-walking to their campus, traffic far beyond them. Louis shrugged and began digging through his pocket for his dorm keys. They cut through campus, wrapping around the graduate building, the auditorium, and the English building to arrive in the center courtyard. The grass crunched under their shoes as they crossed to the stone circle walls at the far end of the courtyard, where Louis nearly broke his nose three years before.

“Mind if I share this smoke with you?” Liam asked, pushing himself up to sit on the wall. His heels grazed the tallest grass blades.

“Yeah, sure.” Louis produced the smoke immediately, already resting between his fingers beside his keys.

He juggled the key ring into his other hand to correctly light the cigarette with a cupped hand. Liam took only a few drags of the cigarette, hacking and coughing after every one. He sat with Louis until he finished, the end glowing with one last strong inhale before Louis stubbed it out on the wall. They had very little to say each other, but it didn’t bother either of them. Liam was like Harry in that regard, but their silences said different things. With Liam it was just the pauses between words, with Harry words were waiting just under the surface. The words settled under their lingering fingertips, their parted lips and the eyes dragging over them, it hung heavy in each breath. Truthfully, Harry and Louis never stopped talking, but now there was going to be someone who understood Harry’s silence just as well. They’d never be alone.

“Oh, hey, Zayn got back to me.” Liam said, having been on and off his phone as Louis smoked. “He said Christmas Eve is fine. You okay with that? Christmas and birthday dinner for you?”

“I’m going to be spending it with the same people.” Louis said. “That’s fine with me. How’s Niall on it?”

“I’ll text--” Liam’s phone buzzed. “Zayn said he’s cool with it. Already.”

“I’ll text Harold then.” Louis nodded, leaning off the wall. “‘Night, Liam.”

“See you Friday in the Student Center?” Liam started walking toward his own dorm building, Louis walking backwards to face him.

“I’ll be there.” Louis promised. “I can’t be pushed out that easily.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Liam called, beginning to step beyond the reach of the courtyard lights.

“No, it’s called determination. Try it some time.”

“Not with what your target is, thanks!” Liam answered, a shadowed hand waving Louis away. “Get some sleep, Tomlinson. It’s been a long day-- I woke up with some guy jumping in my goddamn bed.” He teased.

“Lucky you!” Louis scoffed and turned away to start marching against the wind to his dorm. He called back out to Liam, wishing him good night, but it was lost between them. Liam was already halfway to his building and Louis was just getting back on the path to walk toward his own. Without his skateboard to usher him out of the forceful silence of the nighttime, Louis only had himself and his regret to walk with.

Louis’ dorm was in the same mess he left it in that morning as he rushed to get dressed and be on time for Zayn in the Student Center. He couldn’t believe it had only been a bit over twelve hours since he had been so hopeful. He had been so convinced he’d be sitting on his bed that night with Harry again, sharing another silence. The silence that night, lying in bed alone, was empty. It was never going to answer him. It wasn’t going to comfort him.

* * *

**Thursday. 21 December**.

Louis only woke up with a faint spin in his vision. His hangover was mostly a headache from waking up and realizing that none of the past twenty-four hours were a dream. He had though, dreamt Harry bursting into his room with an apology dripping from his lips like juice from an apple, sweet and delicious. Louis collected every last drop, thumb wiping across his lips before sucking it dry. It was just theirs to share, to let soak the other. The sweet, dripping truth.

Louis woke up with one hand down the front of his pants and the other spread over his face, slapping him back to reality. He was ashamed, having thought of Harry like that-- _pink mouth wide open, panting, whining, and pleading--_ but it felt too real to push aside as he rolled over. He could still hear Harry echoing in his ears and feel his phantom hands on his skin. It wasn’t the first time he had thought of Harry in the privacy of his own thoughts-- and Harry, on five drinks and three semesters ago, had admitted he thought of Louis occasionally in the same way. Back when he was single of course, and still openly in love with Louis. Now, all Louis had was the promise their lives would realign.

It wasn’t enough. Louis curled inward and braced one hand against the mattress. He rolled his shoulder and reached further down his pants. He was barely conscious, barely moving anything but his wrist lazily and without urgency. It wasn’t performative; he laid nearly still, trying to chase the dream previously haunting him. He could see Harry’s face less clearly now that he was waking, but he could still feel his hot skin on his hands. He let it take over. Louis’ hands weren’t as big as Harry’s, but in his half-conscious state, his mind fell for the trick. He twisted his wrist and tightened his grip in ways he typically didn’t and let it feel new to him.

By the time he was fully awake and aware of what he was doing, Louis was already gasping open-mouthed into his pillow, body tensing and straightening and lifting off the mattress. In his hands, the sweet apple ran down between his fingers and onto his stomach. He wiped it off on his shirt before throwing it across the room.

Louis rolled over again, trying to not feel the rocking of the bed and feed any lost dreams. Under his pillow, his phone vibrated once: a text rather than an alarm. He looked at it momentarily and saw Niall’s name and message appear on the screen:

_Want to come over this morning? Missed you all night._

Louis let his phone fall to the ground. He wasn’t about to correct Niall’s mistake or acknowledge that the only suggestive text he was ever going to get from then on was going to be a misdial.

He was going to need every dream he could his hand around.

* * *

**Friday. 22 December.**

Of all the dorm buildings to lose heat, it had to be Louis’. He was up at four-thirty, his own body plunging into shock as he shivered under his light blanket. By five, he was trudging to Niall’s dorm. Niall unfortunately didn’t answer, but was definitely _awake_. Louis avoided learning much more about who or what Niall was texting about the morning before and walked all the way back to his dorm. Louis wasn’t going to bother Liam despite the building being close to Niall’s. Liam had already gotten an early morning wake up call from him. And Louis didn’t want to walk past Harry’s floor, dreams still running hot under his skin in the freezing temperatures.

It was looking to be one of the colder days of the year and Louis entered it wrapped in three blankets but sweating under his collar. Harry Styles was going to genuinely kill him, one way or another.

After a lukewarm shower and frustrating shirt layering, Louis left his icebox room to grab breakfast at the cafe cart. A hot cup of anything would help regulate his body temperature beyond morning hot flashes flushing his chest and neck. He could actually have both hands on the table as he warmed himself.

The tea selection was thin, the cart not stocking back up until after the holidays, but Louis was able to get a decent cup and a muffin. He peeled and threw the wrapper away before walking toward the other end of the building to their usual sitting spot. He walked past the post office and the computer lab, both dark and empty, and caught his reflection in the glass as he took a bite of his food. He was in three different layers-- a shirt, a button down, and a sweater-- and was dressed the nicest he’d been all semester. Not a bad way to present himself to the group after a radio-silent day of on-and-off dreaming of his best friend while making more and more laundry for himself.

Louis plopped down onto the floor in front of the couches, using the tile as a more suitable place to get crumbs than the leather couch. It was still too early to expect anyone else to show up, but the building was heated and Louis had nowhere else to be. He could stand to be alone, out of bed, and in the heat for a while. It’d clear his head enough to need a cigarette later.

“Hey! Didn’t expect you already.” Niall said, walking up the hall with surprising chipperness-- and mobility. He stopped beside Louis, from-home ceramic mug of coffee in hand and guitar case on his back. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Louis said, eyebrow lifted. “Early bird getting the word, eh?”

“What’s that mean?” Niall laughed, situating himself on the floor. His guitar rested on his other side as he moved closer to Louis.

“You mistext me yesterday morning.” Louis decided saying he had heard the quiet _squeaksqueaksqueak_ of his dorm bed was too embarrassing for them both that early in the morning. “They ever come over?”

“Oh.” Niall blushed a deep crimson and visibly swallowed his heart. “Yeah, they did. Accidentally text Harry that too. But it got where it needed to go.”

“Good for you.” Louis said, tapping Niall’s shoulder with his fist. “Glad you found the right number.”

“Me too.” Niall said quietly, lifting his cup to his lips. The smirk was subtle but Louis knew better than to ask more. “How about you? How was your night?” Niall folded his legs and leaned back against the couch.

“Heat’s out right now.” Louis sighed. “But I’m sure they have someone on it. I’m just going to spend most of today in here. If I can.”

“Don’t see why not. No one is going to be out today. Except for maybe us.” Niall shrugged. “I know I’m not moving today.”

“Tired, huh?” Louis asked, trying to restrain his expression. “Just a bit?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Niall replied, keeping an even expression.

“I slept a bit too much last night.” Louis said. He kept falling back into his old dreams, back arching and sigh catching in his throat and strangling his moans. “Too much of a good thing, I guess.”

“Don’t think that’s a real thing.” Niall said with a laugh. Louis was still dizzy with the ghost of Harry slowly sliding and squirming across his sheets. It was real. He needed to start coming down soon or he’d never be able to look at Harry again.

Louis shrugged and held out the lesser eaten half of muffin to Niall, unwilling to continue or prove his point. Niall took it and traded him for his mug of coffee. Niall’s coffee was bitter to the point of drying Louis’ mouth after a single sip; he tried not to recoil openly. Louis held onto the mug for as long as possible despite finding it disgusting. He let the warmth spread over his palms and through his numb fingers.

“‘Morning!” Liam called up the hallway, lifting his thermos to the two of them.

“Hey, Liam.” Louis said, Niall only able to wave due to his full mouth.

“Sorry I’m late.” He said, approaching their corner and shouldering off his coat. “Had a team meeting this morning. Uniform bullshit, as usual.”

“There’s still someone missing.” Louis pointed out. “And it’s also way to fucking early for us to _really_ be keeping appointments.”

“Get into anything good?” Liam asked with a laugh. “Anything new?” Louis looked at Niall, trying to communicate with Liam more so than Niall himself about their friend’s morning activities. “Niall? Something good?”

“Nothing to report really.” Niall shrugged. “Saw my friend the other day.”

“After the bar?” Liam asked, eyebrows raised. “Did you go and meet a ‘friend’ after two beers? Niall, I am shocked and extremely impressed.”

Niall shot his foot out to tip Liam back into his usual arm chair. “How is it I’m the oldest and you act like I’m sixteen all over again?”

“You never tell us anything, Niall.” Liam said, holding his arms for agreement from Louis. “We know his most updated feelings on Harry, how much the boy drives him crazy,” _A censored version, actually_. “And we know shit about Harry just because we can read him like a book. But you’re so hard to read, man. Just tell us. Who is she? What’s she like?”

Niall took his mug back from Louis. It acted as a great buffer as he blushed. “She’s nice.” He said quietly. “I went to her apartment the other night. And saw her yesterday morning.” He took a long sip of his coffee. “And again today.”

“Something serious?” Liam asked, grinning. “That sounds serious.”

“Yeah. I, uh, I think so.” Niall nodded repeatedly, the motion filling in for any further response. “I hope so.”

“Will we meet her?”

“Uh, maybe at Christmas or something. I was thinking about it. I got word that Harry’s bringing Casper and I thought I’d also,” Niall waved his hand around, shrugging. “Also have a plus one for once.”

Louis bumped his shoulder before putting his arm around him. “That’s great Niall. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks.” Niall said. He avoided both of their eyes. Louis chalked it up to jitty embarrassment and pushed on.

“She know you play?” Louis asked, pointing at his guitar.

“Please.” Liam cut in. “If Niall’s got a girl it’s _because_ he knows how to play guitar.”

“That’s not always true.” Niall disagreed. “But, in this case…”

“She like it?” Louis said with a wink, squeezing Niall’s shoulders.

“Loves it.” Niall admitted cheekily. “Really does.”

He ducked his head and continued drinking his coffee. Louis rested his head against Niall’s as they settled into the quiet pause. Louis was happy for Niall, quietly and sweetly probably falling in love with some girl. Part of Louis was jealous, but he knew he was past that phase of his life. He wasn’t going to ever be able to slip into something as wonderful as Niall’s soft love affair. Louis was either going to fight to keep Harry, or slip out of reach and settle with someone else, knowing exactly where he left his heart. Niall’s smile was enough to unknot his jealousy. He wasn’t the one contributing to the mess Louis had made.

After their breakfast caffeine had been partially consumed, Niall took out his guitar to begin fiddling with a few melodies. He played a few he said were his girlfriend’s favorite. Liam and Louis pretended to swoon, clapping loudly after each song. It echoed around the raised ceiling above them, Niall’s hush quietly chasing it.

Coming soon after Niall’s third song was the interrupting sound of short heels on the tile floor. The three of them craned to see Harry entering the building. If his hair wasn’t enough to identify him at a distance, he was defending himself against the cold weather in his usual winter coat: a striped black and white overcoat that stretched all the way to his knees. He walked down the hall, head tilted downward and hand holding a phone to his ear. They lowered their voices as Harry walked closer, his face furrowed while his free hand ran through his hair.

“Everything okay?” Louis mouthed, waving to get him to look up from the floor. Harry nodded and waved him away.

“I-- No, yeah, Mum. I know.” Harry said nodding. “I’m okay. America is _still_ fine-- we’ve been _over this_.”

“Again?” Niall laughed quietly. He moved closer to Louis to make room for Harry. He sat on the couch, Liam and the others holding out the remains of their coffees and tea to him. It was a constant conversation for Harry: when was he coming home, why wasn’t he home, what was he doing at university, and was it worth all the time he was spending away from them? Louis thought so. It was worth every sketch and drawing Harry was able to make without having to hide it under his mattress or in the pages of his otherwise unused Bible.

“Mum, I’m with them right now. I’m doing just fine-- Sure, just a second.” Harry took the phone from his ear and held it out in front of him, tapping the screen. “Go ahead, Mum.”

“Hello, boys!”

“Hi, Anne.” They said together, waving even though she couldn’t see them.

“Who’s all there, Harry?” She asked.

“Niall, Liam, and Louis.” Harry said. “Who else?”

“Oh, good. I can trust them. They’ll tell me.” She said with a tisk.

“Tell you what, Mum? We’ve been on the phone for two hours.” Harry looked at them and shook his head incredulously. “There isn’t much left to discuss.” Nothing left Harry _wanted_ to.

“Is my boy behaving himself?” Harry’s mother asked.

Louis was the first to laugh, Harry’s hand flying out to slap over his mouth. Liam smirked but didn’t make a sound, helping Harry silence Louis’. Niall was the only one composed enough to answer, deflecting the question with a convincing, but also truthful, “yes”.

Louis found nothing about Anne’s question particularly funny, but the nonchalance clearly showed Louis where Harry got his bold personality. Louis was sure Harry had told her about Casper and about other new boyfriend developments, but there was a certain suspicion to the question she didn’t intend to convey. Asking if Harry was behaving himself meant: Was he being the good Catholic boy that they raised? Was he keeping his hands to himself, even in the dreams of his friends?

The answer to all three was _no_ , but lying to Harry’s mother was effortless after four years of phone calls. It was the laughing that was taking all the effort.

“Don’t you dare let her hear you.” Harry whispered, trying to keep a straight face. He rose from the couch to better lean over Louis, hand still over his mouth. It wasn’t the position Louis wanted to be in when he finally looked Harry in the eye after his dreams, but he’d take it. “She does not need to hear the peanut gallery laughing at me from across an ocean.”

“Okay okay.” Louis tried to take a deep breath, but Harry’s hand still rested on his mouth. Harry’s other hand braced his head, fingers cupping the back of his head gently. A blush in Louis cheeks warmed him from his chest to his cheeks-- it must’ve burned Harry’s fingers, but he didn’t let on any observation. Harry continued to stare at Louis anyway, waiting for his cheeks to relax and erase any beginnings of laughter. Harry lowered his hand. “Sorry.” He whispered, Niall still on the phone.

“You know how my mum is.” Harry said, falling back onto his chair. “She’ll trust any word-- or laugh-- you tell her.”

“I should really start using that in my favor, huh?” Louis teased, pushing himself from the floor onto the couch. He navigated around Niall, taking the phone from him just as he sat down beside Harry.

“Louis--” Harry hissed.

“Hey, Mum. It’s Louis.” He held Harry’s phone out in front of him. Harry tried to grab it back but Louis held him at an arm’s reach, hand pressed against his chest. Harry wasn’t genuinely worried, but the inability to continually predict Louis’ actions was causing his face to furrow and hands to continue grabbing.

“I know it’s you! I know that voice anywhere.” She bubbled. “What’s going on, darling?”

“Nothing major, Mum. We’re all having a real nice break. Thank you for letting Harry stay this winter. Our little Christmas would be nothing without him.”

“Yeah, he always brings the mistletoe.” Niall muttered, avoiding the phone’s earshot.

“Shut it.” Louis hissed, swatting them away. “It’s nice to have someone who’s also so far from home for Christmas to rely on.” He faked an exaggerated sigh, letting his voice drop into a pout. Good behavior or not, Louis was going to make Harry seem like a saint for simply sitting next to him. It wasn’t a very hard act. “I couldn’t have stayed the winter without him.”

“We’ll miss him, but it’s good to know he’s with friends.” Harry’s mother said. “Oh, sweetie, your sister’s here.”

“Put her on!” Liam said eagerly, slapping Louis’ arm. Harry turned quickly to glare at him, face dropping and jaw setting. Liam ignored him. “Gemma?”

“I heard you on the other line.” Gemma was audible but muffled, phone changing owners. “How is everything?”

“Just lovely.” Harry said, still looking at Liam. “Mom talk to you at all?”

“No, but I was listening from the other room for a half hour.” She teased. “Heard about your boyfriend.”

“Oh really?” Louis said, eyebrows lifting as he turned to Harry; he was already holding his head in his hands.

“You guys hear about him? Harry’s got himself a thirty year old!”

“He’s _twenty-five_.” Harry corrected quickly. “Would you stop exaggerating? If Robin hears you I’m never going to come home. He’s gonna come here and wring my neck.”

“He’s a doctor, Harry. Robin would actually probably fly over to marry the two of you right now.” Gemma argued with a laugh. Louis laughed along but couldn’t believe he hadn’t considered matrimony in the past shitstorm twenty-four hours. After college was the rest of their lives, and that often meant moving in together or taking another equally large step in a relationship. None though, were as terrifying and concrete as marriage. It was a real possibility that they could get married, and Louis would only have his dreams to counteract it.

“Please, don’t encourage him.” Harry muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just, don’t mention Casper at home too casually until I know Mum isn’t actually planning a surprise visit on me.”

“I’ll play naivity’s advocate, Harry, don’t worry.” She said. “I’ll keep the virgin facade up another year for you.”

“World’s best actress.” Liam said, quietly clapping.

“Alright alright enough of you two.” Harry said, slapping Liam’s hands. “It’s early here, Gem. I want to finish my breakfast. Call later, yeah?”

“Not too late though. Mum hates when you call me late. She thinks she’s missing out on something.” She laughed sweetly. “Love you, Harry.”

“Love you too.” He said. “Say bye to the boys.”

“Behave, all of you.” She teased.

“Bye, Gemma.” They said.

Louis ended the call and handed Harry back his phone. He stuffed it into his pocket and immediately began shouldering his jacket off. He placed it behind him on the back of the couch, leaning on it as he sat back. He looked between the three of them slowly.

“That’s the last time I trust any of you to talk to my family, apparently.” He took Louis’ cup from him and tipped his head back to gulp down half of it.

“You’re so much fun to wind up.” Niall said, patting Harry’s leg. He sat on the floor between Harry’s feet, his guitar resting across his lap, its neck brushing against Harry’s shin as he moved. “In a mood today?”

“Trying not to be.” Harry groaned, his head falling back.  “I got the speech again today about being too far away. And about making good decisions.”

“And fucking a thirty year old isn’t one of those?” Louis asked with a smirk, taking the cup back from Harry with two dainty fingers.

“Not to them.” Harry rolled his eyes and shrugged to Louis. “And I tried bringing up grad school again.”

“The actual plan or what they wanted to hear?” Louis asked, already cringing. Harry looked at Louis silently, eyes red from lack of sleep and drying contacts, and entire body slouched against the couch; no words necessary. “Ouch. Sorry, Harry.”

“Eh, I’ve still got time. Not going to ruin Christmas crying over a bloody MFA. I’ve got the rest of my life for that.” Harry joked, but he seemed convinced already.

“Christmas! Speaking of which, you and Casper are coming to dinner, right?” Liam asked. “You got the info?”

“Oh, yeah, he said he’d love to join us.” Harry nodded. “You sure your friend is okay with two more strangers in his house? I mean, I haven’t even properly met him yet. I don’t even know his name--”

“He wants to meet Casper.” Niall said, cutting him off. “He’s heard quite a bit.” His smile was mischievous, but only Louis seemed to notice.

Niall turned back to his guitar and picked up on his abandoned melody. It was barely familiar, but words seemed to emerge on their tongues before they understood them. They muttered the song behind Niall as he strummed. Harry closed his eyes, head resting on the back of the couch still, but conscious enough to remember the most lyrics to the song out of them. Liam was on his phone, eyes lowered, while Louis was left staring straight ahead down the hall. A few of the offices were still open but unmanned; college kids could use a printer without needing a full staff of IT help on deck. Two students walked out with a stack of papers, presumably to soon be stapled around campus bulletin boards. Louis wasn’t sure what possibly could be on campus to be advertised. What could there be to use as an excuse to avoid any future sudden introductions to Casper--

As if summoned, Casper stepped out of the office behind the girls. He had a tall pile of papers himself, turning and rushing toward their end of the building. Louis pretended to be sleeping as well; it was his closest option to being dead.

“Harry! Harry, need you for a minute.” Casper called, presumably spotting them all piled by the couch even in his rush.

“Yeah?” Harry said, moving beside Louis. Louis cracked his eyes open, but pretended he was unconscious to avoid making eye contact with Casper. Louis didn’t have enough dignity for that yet after his previous evening. “What’s the matter?”

“I came here to print something in a rush and didn’t bring the proper coat. I have to run an errand with them and I’ll be right back. Can I borrow yours?”

“Sure, yeah, of course.” Harry nodded, twisting and lifting Louis’ shoulder lightly to pull his coat up. Casper was only a bit broader than Harry but could definitely fit into the slim cut jacket. Not that he’d want to.

“This.” Casper said. Louis’ eyes opened fully. “You don’t have anything more… muted?”

“You’re running an errand. Just take the jacket.” Harry laughed, thrusting it forward. “It’s warmer than your rutty sweater, babe.”

“Thank you.” Casper said finally, reaching for it. “Be back in a moment.”

“Take your time-- don’t fuck up my coat!” Harry called after him with a laugh. “Love you!”

Louis closed his eyes again, but this time he just played dead and hoped his body would get the hint. He knew they were in love, knew they said it to each other daily, but he hadn’t thought about the possibility of hearing it himself. Louis also hadn’t thought of the possibility of hearing a sliver of his dreams as he sat beside its star: _hands gripped tight in hair, nails dragging down Louis’ back, and breath hot on his neck. They were rutting together shamelessly, completely flush together, but still struggling to feel close. Louis had muttered something in tongues, unable speak consciously. Harry panted into Louis’ ear, hand on his back pleading for more touch: “I love you.”_

* * *

Time passed slowly between them. Niall still playing quietly on his guitar and Liam scrolling through his phone. He only looked up to mumbled about his soccer teammates, placing his phone down and turning to Niall. They spoke quietly to each other, Louis still resting his head and eyes. Liam’s words were unintelligible, but his tone suggested he was asking about Niall’s girlfriend again. Louis nudged Niall’s back with his foot lightly, offering himself as a distraction. Niall didn’t have time to take the opportunity.

“Wait a second,” Harry said softly. Louis cracked his eyes open, trying to find where the amusement was placed on Harry’s face. He was laughing, but he didn’t seem incredulous. “Niall’s got a girlfriend?”

“Yeah, Liam twisted my arm about it this morning.” Niall said with a nervous shrug. “Said I was thinking about bringing ‘em around for Christmas.”

“Still?” Harry said, giving the strange appearance he already knew about Niall’s plan. Louis blinked to correct his vision.

“If all goes well, yeah.”

“I can’t wait to meet them.” Harry winked at him and clapped him on the shoulder. “Speaking of which, I should probably text--” He leaned to the side to reach into his back pocket. “Where did I put my phone?”

“Not in the couch?” Liam asked. The couch jostled beside Louis as Harry’s hands ran along the cushion seams.

“No.”

“Was it still in your jacket?” Louis guessed groggily, pointing over his shoulder to Casper’s exit doors.

“Fuck. Think it is.” Harry said, placing a hand on Louis’ arm. “He’ll be back eventually. No idea where he went though... It’s been a bit, hasn’t it?”

“About twenty minutes.” Liam said, looking at his own phone. “Slow walker?”

“Long talker.” Harry chuckled. “You guys saw. Very verbose.”

“I think the term you are looking for is ‘charmer’.” Niall said.

Harry laughed shortly. “Charming or not. I’m dating a fucking talk-show host. He never shuts up.”

“No?” Louis was going to take the bait if no one else wanted to push the question.

“He’s a doctor, Louis.” Harry said, rolling his eyes. Louis refrained from correcting that Casper only _wanted_ to be a doctor. “He is a well of knowledge.”

“And you are?”

“A bohemian.” Harry shrugged, dismissing himself. “The hair, the clothes, the art. But that’s also to say I do my fair share of chewing his ear off-- I mean, you guys know me.” Louis couldn’t conjure a single memory where he thought Harry was overspeaking. His additions to group conversations were always welcome and his words with Louis always sounded like they were delicately chosen. Louis wasn’t sure where Harry got such an idea.

Beside them, Casper stormed through-- well, stumbled if Louis was being more critical-- the doors, footsteps heavy and chest heaving. Louis turned to face him slowly despite the noise. Harry was on his feet before the door even closed behind him.

“Fuck, Casper! What happened to you?” Harry cried, arms out to timidly hold him. Casper’s hair was ruffled and his nose was red and running. Harry’s coat was dirty on the arms and along the knees, a hem on the shoulder was loose and string coiling in on itself.

“They thought I was you.” Casper huffed, letting the coat slide down his arms. He gathered it in one fist and shoved it into Harry’s extended hands. Harry stumbled back, unsure what to focus on first; the coat’s damage or Casper’s disgruntled face.

“What?”

“I asked if I could borrow your coat--”

“Why are you saying it like the weather is my fault? You were cold, I gave you my coat.” Harry said, defending his own kindness against Casper’s strong tone.

“Yes, but you handed me your _candy striper_ coat.” Casper cried, waving at his jacket. “I looked like a fucking… fucking _Beetlejuice_ costume walking to College Hall.” He was shouting and neither Liam, Niall, nor Louis wanted to make eye contact with him. They all stared at each other, frozen and in disbelief. A lover’s quarrel should have been a delight for Louis, but it was actually terrifying to watch unravel so quickly. There was no fuse; Casper placed a match directly into the detonator.

“Would you have preferred I let you freeze?” Harry asked. He didn’t shout but his tone was cutting. Louis had never heard him speak that way before. “Is that preferable to being flamboyant?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It sort of is.” Harry retorted, folding his arms. “They’re stripes. Not pink bloody triangles.”

“I just don’t get why you can’t just _try_ , Harold.” Casper huffed. Louis caught him waving at Harry’s body in his peripherals. A single hand brushed Harry’s hair off his shoulder. The three of them flinched together. Niall grabbed Louis’ hand tightly. Together, they both clocked why Casper seemed to notice how Louis dressed himself; it was easy to convince someone to change their behavior if they had examples.

“Who bothered you?” Liam asked, trying to break the tension reeling them closer to each other. Just enough to start shoving.

“I don’t know them!” Casper answered shortly. “But they sure as hell seemed to know Harry.” He accused Harry easily and subtly, barely even putting in the effort.

“Gotta be my team.” Liam muttered, grabbing his phone again. “Those fucking pricks.”

“How is that my fault?” Harry asked. It had been a low insult, definitely beginning to chip away at Harry. People that disliked him for arbitrary reasons weren’t his to monitor. They shouldn’t even have been his to worry about. “So people roughed you up. I’m sorry, really, Casper. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, but also? Not my fucking fault.”

“Didn’t know it’d be dangerous being with you.” Casper spat, temper popping off in a moment. Louis finally broke his gaze and turned to look at Harry.

“Oh, wow.” Harry breathed, chest collapsing inward and shoulders dropping. “Try _being_ me some time.” Harry threw his coat at Casper and stormed out of the Student Center. The hinges slowed the momentum of door and kept it from slamming, nothing interrupting the awkward silence forming around them.

“Should we go get him?” Niall asked between his teeth.

“Don’t move a muscle.” Liam hissed. Casper was still fuming, taking Harry’s coat in tight, shaking fists before throwing it onto the couch with a scoff. “I’m not getting involved in this.”

“I have to.” Niall said, handing his guitar over to Liam. They tried to stop him but he slipped through their trembling hands. Niall grabbed Harry’s coat and headed for the door, side-stepping Casper without a glance in his direction. Casper watched him with a set jaw, fists curling at his sides. “Harry!” Niall screamed, his voice carrying through the door. “Wait!”

“Why would you say that?” Louis said. He hadn’t intended on following on Niall’s lead. The fear sinking in his stomach had flared up and began to bubble under his skin. “Do you know _how_ many people get on his case?” Casper’s mouth sputtered open, both shock and rage making him fumble with his words. “Didn’t think he’d have to worry about you too.”

Louis wasn’t meddling. He was being Harry’s best friend. Sometimes that involved calling out boyfriends for their big mouths. Granted, it was the big mouth that was definitely going to screw things up with Harry further, but it still needed to be silenced, even for a moment. It was only allowed to ramble when its only victim was Casper himself.

“They _shoved me_.”

“They’ve _threatened him_ .” Louis spat back, imitating Casper’s whining tone. “Harry doesn’t dress straight because he doesn't have to; he’s _not_ straight. You _know_ this.” Louis wasn’t able to stop. The words were like steam shooting out of a kettle, hot and burning. “Or wait. Does Harry not confide in you about his fucking _trauma_ because you’ll side with his attackers? That must be it.”

“ _Louis_.” Liam started, grabbing his arm and trying to tug him back down onto the couch. Louis didn’t remember standing. “This is not the place.” He thought Louis was doing it with ulterior motives. It was a fair concern, and maybe had a little truth, but mostly Louis just couldn’t stand around when the blame was going to be placed on Harry.

“When is?” Louis spat. “Do I wait until _he_ starts calling Harry a fag? Or should I wait until he starts shoving Harry? _Or_ , oh, I know! How about tackling him to try and cut his hair?” Casper looked mortified, but Louis had the feeling it was over mourning his own pride before reacting to the revelation.

“I had no idea.” He said, temper finally starting to sizzle out as Louis’ was reaching its peak. “He’s never told me any of that.” That was one story they all should have shared over a drink or two. Louis wouldn’t have been much better drunk, though.

“Fucking shocking.” Louis scoffed. He practically had tunnel vision, only Casper highlighted in his mind: his wide eyes, his tight jaw, his dark and furrowed eyebrows, his pathetic runny nose. How dare he. “Next time, don’t pick a fight with us.”

“I didn’t ask to fight you, Lou. I-I had no idea. I get it now” Casper began, speaking more softly toward Louis. It might have been a retreat or simply seeing his wrongdoings, but Louis refused to be cooled so quickly. The first offenses were always the worst.

“You fuck with Harry, you fuck with me.” Louis said, pointing a firm finger at Casper. “That’s _my_ boy.”

“Louis.” Louis whipped his head and knocked over the walls of his tunnel vision. Harry had already walked back inside with Niall, his coat resting over his shoulders. His nose was running and his eyes were red. It hadn’t been the cold. Harry was staring at Louis, lips parted but silence still controlling them. It hung between them, long and loud. There were too many witnesses to allow the silence to truly speak its mind. It’d have to die between them.

“I better go.” Louis said. He made sure he had his cigarettes in his back pocket as he pushed past Niall out the door. “I’ll see you at Christmas.”

The lingering sight of a dreamed Harry’s dark and sincere eyes were unable to compete with the searing image of Harry close to tears. Louis couldn’t go back to pretending; he had seen where his dreams went and where reality was taking them. Louis’ dreams were secretive and selfish, but the reality was presenting Louis with teary eyes and unfair attacks. A fake smile was impossible to keep up if it was also going to appear on Harry’s face too.

Louis was going to fight for Harry, and at the moment all that meant was fighting back.

* * *

**Saturday. 23 December.**

Louis was jerked awake by his phone vibrating. Someone thought it was a good idea to text him at two in the morning.

In the hours after the fight, Louis didn’t trust himself in spontaneous conversation. He didn’t know what anyone would say first, so he decided to not be near any of it. Louis’ room was still ice cold, but he figured it would help cool his anger. It would be the perfect quarantine.

Niall did text first, but it went ignored: _What happened?_

Liam texted not much later after that: _What did you do_? Louis ignored Liam since he had been there and witnessed the entire meltdown himself. He didn’t want to humor someone trying to grind him up again.

Then Niall text again: _You should come back_. Louis knew that wouldn’t have been a good idea.

Liam again: _He’s still crying_.

Louis scrambled for his phone, shooting back ten texts asking for answers.

 _Talk to him yourself_.

Louis planned on doing no such thing. Not when he knew that guilt made affection soar; Casper would be attached to Harry all night. He ignored the text for the next three hours, lying on his bed and running through the argument on loop.

Louis was sure he had said too much. He had made himself obvious, undoubtedly. Louis wasn’t sure if Harry had told Casper he used to have feelings for him. Had he also exposed Harry? Louis couldn’t reach out first. No words could backpedal the enormous grave he dug for himself-- for both of them. He stared at the ceiling and waited. He wasn’t sure if it was for bad news or the slightest signal of normalcy, but Louis abandoned the world outside his room until falling asleep by early evening.

Until he was awoken by his phone at two in the morning.

It was under his pillow, the chime muffled but the vibration rumbling under Louis’ head. He dug it out from under himself and squinted in the bright light. There was a new voicemail, Louis apparently having missed the call itself. Not that the caller _really_ expected him to answer it.

As if he hadn’t already been having a nightmare, the voicemail was from Harry.

Louis debated deleting it and leaving the embarrassment to be forgotten in the morning light, but fear it would be the last words Harry ever spoke to him won out and he listened.

“ _Hey, Louis.”_ He paused, as if waiting for a response. “ _I know you aren’t awake. I just couldn’t text this. I don’t even know what I’m going to say, if I’m being honest_ .” He sniffled twice. “ _I just had the worst conversation with Casper and I… I don’t know who else to talk to. It wasn’t that bad or anything but, he asked about everything. The fucking football--_ soccer-- _team,”_ Harry pronounced the American sport with an over-pronounced “r”. He paused, letting Louis chuckle, despite not laughing himself. _“I had to relive the past four years of bullshit. And I didn’t have anyone there to lean on… It was weird_ . _I missed you.”_

“Fuck, Harry.” Louis muttered, bracing his forehead on his hand. The conversation was going to be everything Louis needed to hear, but it wasn’t going to end the way he wanted. He had screwed it all up the moment he stood up from that couch and challenged Casper.

“ _Casper listened and everything, but he didn’t seem to get it.”_ Harry said. “ _Not like you do_ .” He sighed, letting himself come to a complete stop. “ _I don’t know. I just really wish you were here. I need my best friend. But I don’t want to make it worse. I know it’s hard for you and I’m just… I’m being terrible. You need space, and I get that. But.”_ Harry laughed and Louis could hear him start crying again. “ _I’m a selfish git and want my best friend_.”

“You’re not.” Louis said quietly. “I love you.”

“ _See you for your birthday, Love._ ” He said, sniffling and taking a deep breath. He paused. “ _I know_.”

“You do?” Louis asked. The voicemail ended, leaving Louis with the worst silence yet.

The voicemail ended exactly how Louis had wanted, and that was so much worse. It didn’t mean anything to hear everything you’ve ever wanted, but have to give it up the moment it left the person’s lips. Harry knew Louis loved him, but he’d never say it back. Instead, Louis could only  preserve the one time Harry ever came close to admitting it.

 _I know. I love you too_.

* * *

**Sunday. 24 December**.

Louis was told to show up at Zayn’s an hour earlier than the agreed party time. He figured it was an intervention. The boys were going to talk him away from looking Casper in the eye for the entire party, or even thinking about speaking to Harry until the situation had been properly diffused. If he was being honest, Louis could really use the intervention. It’d  get him back into the disgruntled, silent part of unrequited love, rather than the defensive lover phase he was suffering through. Putting the three of them in the same room was going to be a disaster and everyone already seemed to know it.

Around four in the afternoon, Louis walked to Zayn’s alone. He puffed smoke up into the clear winter sky the whole walk over. Outside the building, Zayn was catching a smoke as well. He leaned against the wall by the stoop, ashing his cigarette against the railing.

“Hey.” Louis said. “How have you been?” It had been a strange drought; meeting Zayn and having him immediately agree to help his love life endeavor, and then fall out of their reach for a few days.

“Doing alright. Yourself?”

“No one’s told you?” Louis laughed. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I can clearly see the foot hanging out of your mouth, but I’m curious how bad it was.” Zayn said, taking a long drag.

“Met the boyfriend, fought the boyfriend, made the boyfriend ask Harry about his four years of bullying.” Louis said, rolling his eyes. “It’s a world record: being the worst friend in a span of seventy-two hours.”

“Can I make it easier?” Zayn asked. “Or worse.”

“What’d you mean?”

“I’ve met Harry, remember? But he hasn’t met me. What’s the plan?” Zayn said, blowing a stream of smoke out the corner of his mouth. Louis had completely forgotten. He barely wanted to remember the lie that pushed him to finally admit his feelings to Harry, considering how _well_ that went. And now he’d have to relive it all over again.

Louis put his cigarette back in his mouth and took a long drag. He spoke around the cigarette, “Just poison me at dinner, how about that?”

“Come on,” Zayn laughed, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him into his side. He started walking back toward the door. “Let’s get out of the cold.”

“Please.” Louis agreed. He took one last drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out on the outside of the building. “I haven’t been in a heated room in days.”

“Yeah, Niall was telling me your heat broke?” Zayn said, leading him up the stairs. “Do you need somewhere to stay warmer than an icebox?”

“No. I should be okay. They have someone coming after Christmas.” Louis said. He thought back to his Friday morning, shivering but still flushing with embarrassment. “Funny thing actually,” Louis stared. “I tried to stay with Niall that first day.”

“Yeah?” Zayn said, wiping his feet on the mat outside his apartment door. “He kick you out?”

“He already _had_ company.” Louis said with a chuckle.

Zayn blinked slowly, his eyes wide as he stared ahead of him. “ _Oh_.”

“Before you offer and have him pawn me off on you.” Louis said. “Know he’s not really busy-- or well, he is. But...”

“No. He told me, uh, just happened to tell me in between explaining how you were simultaneously flirting and fighting with Harry.” He teased, walking into the foyer of his apartment. “Can’t let you freeze.”

“Much appreciated, but I should be okay.” Louis said, following him in.

Zayn’s home was already filled with the dizzying smells of rosemary and faint bay leaf. Louis was able to shed his coat and the looming weight of the past few days as he closed the door behind him. There were silver and blue garland hanging from the curtain rods in the living room behind the breakfast bar, and Christmas lights lining the tops of his cabinets. Back home, Louis’ home was always decorated within an inch of its integrity. Christmas tree bright and meticulously decorated throughout the final week of November, stockings homemade and hung in the same order every year along the mantle in the parlor, and snowmen and snowflakes appearing on any piece of decor powdered the hallways and the kids’ bedrooms. Zayn’s decor wasn’t much, and by the looks of the colors actually meant for Chanukah, but it was warming. It was made with intent and purpose rather than appearance.

Their Christmas didn’t even allow presents. It was a rule every year since they all became friends that no one spent any money on the others for Christmas or for birthdays. They would just all make sure to make the time for the holiday or celebration, and that would be enough-- and they were. Despite Louis’ consuming pity party and self-loathing, his friends were enough to get him through it.

Harry was right; Louis just needed his best friend.

“Happy birthday!” Niall said as soon as Louis was in eyesight. Niall was in a green pullover sweater with a red and green plaid collar poking out the top. He was decorated just as much as the house. “Having a good birthday so far?”

“I slept until noon. Ate a bagel.” Louis said with a shrug. “Nothing to report.”

“You talk to anyone? Liam?” Niall seemed to be leading Louis but kept a composed expression.

“Nope.”

“Huh. He said he had news, so, guess we’ll all learn later.” He gave an exaggerated shrug to convince them of his nonchalance. “How about uh, Harry? Talk to him?” Zayn snorted back a laugh behind him, shaking his head. Both he and Louis were seeing right through his facade.

“No. I haven’t.” Louis said. His voicemail was private. He’d share just about anything with Niall and Liam, but Harry crying on the other end of the phone begging for his friends was a secret to stay between the hearts involved. “I was sure he didn’t want to see me. I joined into a _couple’s argument_ \-- I’m such a prick. And I was the one who forced him to talk to Casper about the whole football team crap. I shouldn’t have.”

“You shouldn’t have?” Niall said, recoiling. “Casper shouldn’t have made such a big deal about it. It was so uncomfortable after you left.”

“Liam text me about it.” Louis said. “Crying the whole time?”

“ _Hysterical_.” Niall corrected, standing at the stove. “But, I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you that--”

“Wait, wait-- Why?” Louis stepped up to Niall, nearly cornering him against the counter. “He didn’t say--”

“I don’t know.” Niall said, holding his hands up. “You said you didn’t talk to him.”

“I-I didn’t.” Louis backed off. “I figured if he was that upset he would’ve said something to me, right?”

“I don’t know, Louis. Before Casper could even get him to leave the Student Center, he was crying. Like, sophomore-year-got-rejected-from-the-art-gallery sobbing.”

Louis knew better than to try and place the blame anywhere other than himself. “Oh. Fuck.”

“Yeah. Haven’t been able to check in on him before today. I hope he’s okay.” Niall said quietly. He lifted pot lids and stirred the food silently, nothing else to add. Louis had nothing left to ask.

Louis sat at the breakfast bar and began to try and bargain with his guilt. He needed it to stay off another few hours before ruining his birthday. Louis’ stomach was churning at the thought of his own assumed heroics actually making Harry catatonically crying at their favorite hang out spot. Maybe Liam was right; maybe his anger wasn’t platonically driven. Louis could have ruined Harry’s relationship with Casper in a few half-thought sentences. He also could have ruined his own relationship with Harry.

He didn’t think he was ready to bury his longest friendship on his twenty-second birthday. Louis could already count the nails he had put in his coffin the days before.

“Can someone help me with this?” Niall asked, foot going out and kicking the counter where Louis was sitting. He was holding a tall pot with both hand, the handle not strong enough to hold the weight. “Anyone!”

“I’ve got you!” Zayn was nearly in the other room when he came sprinting to Niall. Louis was closer by a handful of feet, but was far too dazed to act accordingly. Louis watched, as if from another body, Zayn grab Niall’s hands and support his wrist as he rearranged the pots on the stove. They worked quickly, shuffling around each other and avoiding every hot element with ease. Louis wasn’t going to be jealous. He lost his best friend all on his own.

Harry needed him and he threw him away, straight into the arms of a man that didn’t want to understand him. Louis abandoned Harry and cited a broken heart as the cause, all the while Harry had been nursing one for two years.

“ _-Louis_!” Niall said firmly, kicking the counter again. “Look alive, man. Could you get that?” He hadn’t even noticed someone was at the door.

“Shit, yeah. Sorry.” Louis muttered, pushing back from his seat. Liam could help bring him back. He’d listen to Louis complain, scold him for being so goddamn careless with his anger, and then let Louis sink into his side for the rest of the evening. “Comin’! Hold on!” Louis called, shuffling over to the door.

“Happy birthday!” Harry cried the minute the door opened. He was beautiful. He absolutely glowed with an excited grin lighting up his face. Casper stood behind Harry, lifting a bottle of wine to wave at Louis. “How are you, Love? Twenty-fucking-two!” He wrapped his arms around Louis before his arms even lifted from his sides. “Glad you’re the old man.”

“Alright. Fuck you.” Louis said, finally placing his arms around Harry. It wasn’t an ideal first sentence, but it matched the attitude they had all left him in.

“I’m waiting.” Harry said playfully in his ear, pinching his sides. He pulled away, his hands immediately dropping from Louis’ waist-- as if it would disguise their sudden intimacy, or hide the blank shock on Louis’ face. Harry still needed his best friend. “Happy Christmas everyone!” He grabbed Casper’s hand and pulled him into the foyer.

“I brought wine! Hope everyone likes ‘95 Chateau Margaux!” Casper said. His impression was different suddenly. He stood tall, shoulders back and with even eyes meeting each boy with a strange intensity. He stopped on Niall, as if asking him.

“They don’t care, babe. We don’t drink wine for flavor most of the time.” Harry teased, taking it from him and spinning the label in his hands.

“You are such college students.” Casper muttered, shaking his head at Harry.

“That’s perfect, thank you.” Zayn said, stepping between Niall and Casper. It was the first time he was in Harry’s line of sight. “Nice to meet you both. Zayn.” His name was clear, erasing his previously held identity.

Harry stared at him, smirk curling his lips as he held his hand out. “It’s so great to finally meet you.” He took Zayn’s hand in both of his. Their smiles suppressed their laughter, but only Niall and Louis could notice. Unlike Louis, Harry wasn’t going to expose him in front of their friends.

“Same to you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“I bet.” Harry said with a wink. “There’s a lot to hear.” Harry cast another wink in Louis’ direction, mouthing a quiet “ _wow_ ”. As Zayn and Harry dropped hands, Casper’s reappeared on Harry’s shoulders. Harry reached up and held both of them. His grip was tight, knuckles white and rings digging into Casper’s fingers.

Louis sat back down at the counter, shoulders heavy and mind fogged, and helped Niall open the bottle of wine. Zayn placed wine glasses in front of Louis, counting around the room.

“How many? Six, right?”

“Seven!” Harry corrected. “Niall’s bringing over that special someone, right?” He grinned brightly at Niall, tongue pressed between his teeth.

“He is?” Zayn asked, turning to Niall. He was crimson and matching the undertones of his plaid shirt. “First I’ve heard of it.”

“They might stop by.” Niall said. His smile was timid but not devoid of excitement. “They’ll text me later.”

“I’ll keep it at six until they decide.” Zayn said, placing the last glass in front of Louis. “Pour to your liking, boys.”

“Not a lot for us.” Casper said, squeezing Harry’s shoulders. Harry was still glowing, still the most beautiful man in the room. Why did Casper have to constantly be in the background of every look Louis tried to steal?

“I’ll just take a straw.” Louis sighed, looking at Niall over the glasses. Niall shot him a stern expression, both disapproving of his brooding and self-loathing attitude, and also that he had one during his birthday party.

“How much you reckon Liam will want?” Zayn asked, watching Niall hesitantly pour wine into the sixth glass.

“Half glass is fine.” Liam said, poking his head in the door.

The group greeted him loudly, holding their arms out to hug him. He made a quick round to each of them. He got to Niall and Zayn first, grabbing them both in either arm. He grabbed Harry around the waist and squeezed him surprisingly tight, a quiet _oof_ escaping Harry’s lips as he staggered back into Casper’s chest. Liam came to Louis last, wrapping his arm around his shoulders to pull the boy’s face close to his own, chins resting on each other’s shoulders. “Happy birthday, man. It’s gonna be a good year. Promise.” They had skipped all the complaining and scolding and Louis was already being held by Liam and soothed out of his bad mood.

“Thanks, mate.” Louis slapped his side as they pulled apart. There was something rushed about his entrance and his speech. He was in ten different places mentally before walking in the door, and Louis tried to find them all on his face as he looked at them with a tight smile.

“How have you been?” Harry asked, sitting at the counter. Casper stood behind him again, hands still resting on his shoulders. Louis really couldn’t take his eyes off of Harry. His hair was pulled up into a tight bun, a ring of holly sitting around it. He was in a black sweater, unbuttoned with a simple white shirt underneath. The sweater was knitted black, satin playing cards sewn and embroidered on the sides. Both Christmas and party at the same time. Louis noted he didn’t have a heavier coat on when he entered the apartment.

“Yeah, what’s been going on? You said you had some news.” Niall said, holding the glass out to him.

“Oh, yeah. How could I forget?” Liam said, having obviously _not_ forgotten. He was still hanging his coat up on the overflowing coat rack. He took his time arranging his scarf over the collar of his coat before turning back. He took the wine glass and his first sip before answering. “I quit the team.”

“What?” Niall gasped. The wine glass was lucky it wasn’t still in his hand. “What team? Your soccer team?”

“Are you serious?” Zayn added, stepping around Niall toward Liam.

“Yeah. I’m done.” Liam nodded, putting one hand in his pocket. It occured to Louis then he was just in dark jeans and a white sweater; very little Christmas about him. Liam had been texting Louis about Harry, but it didn’t cross Louis’ mind to text back asking about his own well being. In his old age, Louis had apparently forgotten how to be a good friend. “After the shit they pulled the other day, I couldn’t be around them any more. That was it.”

“Liam, you love being on that team.” Harry cut in. He made a motion to rise from his chair but his shoulders were held firm. “Don’t let them ruin it for you.”

“I didn’t even get hurt that badly.” Casper said, shaking his head. “It was just a ripped jacket, Liam.” Louis was the only one looking at Harry. He was the only one that noticed his jaw tighten and lips pressed together.

“That’s not the point.” Liam argued, shaking his head. “I don’t care you _weren’t_ hurt. You weren’t even the target! The bottom line is they saw his jacket--”

“Not hard to do.” Casper muttered to himself.

“--They saw it and immediately went to hurt him.”

“Me.”

“It _doesn’t fucking matter_!” Liam argued. “Those aren’t people I want to be around. I don’t care.”

“You know I wouldn’t have been mad if you stayed, Liam.” Harry cut in, reaching a hand out on the table. Liam didn’t take it.

“I know, but I would have. If I was on the team and something happened to you, I’d be just as guilty.” Liam said. “Hope you can all forgive me for not dragging you to a soccer game this spring.” He lifted his grimace into a smile, trying to ease everyone down from the tension. It wasn’t easy; Zayn and Niall were staring at Casper with matching furrowed expressions.

“Forgiven.” Louis said, reaching out to squeeze his arm. “Now, come on, pick that glass back up. It’s my birthday and I want everyone to have a good time!” Louis nudged the stemmed glass closer to Liam. He picked up the glass and held it in the air.

“To Louis. Congrats on leaving Harry in the dust to be the youngest person in the group.” Liam laughed, placing an arm around Louis shoulders.

“For making it to the big two-two and with a GPA much higher than that!” Niall teased, winking and lifting his glass as well.

“For... uh,” Zayn lifted his glass with an unsure bare-toothed smile. “For being a great house guest at any age I’ve known you.” Niall looked at Zayn with a quirked eyebrow, laughing to himself.

“To Louis.” Harry said finally, lifting his barely-filled wine glass. Casper echoed his movement but not his words. “May this year treat you well and let things fall into the perfect place at last. Twenty-two is a beautiful year and you are already wearing it splendidly, Love. More handsome than the first day we all met you-- and far more yourself in every way. It’s been a pleasure knowing you for these past four birthdays, let us all hope for many more.” Louis felt Harry’s eyes sink into him, the rest of the room falling away.

Louis could feel Harry’s lips on his cheek again. The word _baby_ sweet and regretful, dripping from his lips and running down his chin. Louis could feel the phantom of Harry’s hands on his back, scraping and pulling on his skin, imaginarily begging for _more_ for _enough_. Louis could hear the empty static of his voicemail whisper the three lost words between them. His heart fluttered in his chest and down to his fingertips. It was like a new electric pulse in his fingers, like he had just put down a cigarette. Louis could feel himself fall in love all over again.

“To Louis!” they all repeated.

They emptied their glasses in one gulp-- two for Louis-- before placing their glasses back on the counter. The clink of the glass stems spoke the first words in their silence. He stared at the single drop left at the bottom of his glass, trying to avoid looking back at Harry. He didn’t want any fodder for his dreams that night-- especially if they’d be framed with Casper’s hands.

“Is everyone hungry?” Zayn said, clearing his throat. “We have all the home cooking I could manage; baked chicken, some mash, green beans casserole, homemade-- and slightly misshapen-- rolls,” Zayn bent and twisted as he pointed to the different pots and dishes on the stove and in the oven. “Oh! and Harry for you, Niall and I made a lentil adaptation with some vegetables and spices-- same as the chicken.”

“Christ, Zayn, you didn’t have to.” Harry said, placing a hand on his chest. “I would have been fine.”

“These boys treat you pretty special, huh?” Casper said, leaning over to kiss Harry on the cheek. It wasn’t accusatory. It could have been. “Wrapped around your little finger?”

“Harry’s a vegetarian.” Louis said, cutting into the whispered conversation. “It’s not quite special treatment so much as just trying to feed him.”

Casper laughed, leaning his head against Harry’s. “Very funny.” he said. In his peripherals, Louis saw Niall reach for the wine bottle, already filling Louis’ glass. Zayn busied himself with the stove and Liam pretended to be checking the time on the wall with his invisible watch.

Harry pulled away from Casper, allowing himself to turn and stare at him, jaw still set. “I told you that on our third date.”

“You didn’t.” Casper said, still taking it lightly. “I would have remembered that.”

“You took me to a restaurant on H street.” Harry said, ready with the memory. “And you thought I was being prissy for getting a salad. Despite it being the only thing I could eat on the menu.”

“I didn’t say prissy.”

“I told you, ‘I don’t eat meat’.” Harry continued, tone even and not sparing anyone’s comfort. “And you said ‘that doesn’t seem likely’ and assumed I was making an innuendo.” Harry tapped the counter, pointing at his wine glass. “I’ll take a little more too.”

Casper swallowed slowly, blinking at Harry. “I don’t recall that.”

“I do.” Harry said, sickly sweet. He lifted the wine glass to his smile, tipping his head back to swallow the entire glass in a gulp. “But that’s probably not important.”

“It was a salad, babe. I don’t make scrupulous notes on what my dates eat.” He laughed, kissing Harry’s cheek. He rolled his eyes with a smile, pushing his empty wine glass to Niall for him to keep.

It hadn’t occurred to Louis until then that what Harry had told him, sniffling through his words on the voicemail, about Casper not understanding him wasn’t about lack of experience. It was lack of empathy. Casper heard Harry spill his guts about the way the university’s soccer team took one look at him freshman year in the courtyard and deciding he was an enemy of theirs, and couldn’t find it in himself to understand. He watched Harry cry, full body and uncontrollable, and still had a bone to pick with his flamboyant habits. Louis could just imagine him getting upset with how over emotional Harry was being. _It was just a ripped jacket_. No, it was Harry’s pride, and Casper was refusing to see the bravery.

Louis sat back in his chair and lifted his wine glass. He toasted goodbye to the pleasant birthday he expected to have and tried to plot on the clock how much longer he’d have to stall before he’d have an excuse to go out for a smoke.

It wasn’t long, luckily.

They ate in a mix of small talk and silence. Harry picked at his bowl of lentils, being sure to compliment Zayn’s cooking with warmth before letting his face ice over again. Zayn tried to get to know Harry, asking about his major, but they both found only short responses for the other. Niall finished the bottle of wine effortlessly. He didn’t say anything, pulling his phone out of his pocket repeatedly. For Louis, it was less painful than he thought. The silence was nothing compared to the drilling need to ease his nerves with a cigarette. Then again, it was possible the silence was what was setting his nerves on edge in the first place. Alternatively though, breaking the silence meant tuning his voice to be polite and nonchalant, two things Louis knew he was incapable of being. He was staring at his food but could still see Casper’s hand resting on Harry’s thigh. It didn’t move, didn’t try and add comfort. His hand laid against his leg still and heavy.

Harry needed his best friend, and that wasn’t Casper by a long shot.

“I’m going out for a smoke.” Louis announced, standing. “Anyone is welcome to join me.” He looked mostly at Zayn.

“You don’t have to go outside.” Zayn said, eyes locking on Louis’ face with desperation. Of all the people to be left with the other boys, Zayn was going to be the most uncomfortable. It was no proper introduction to Harry and no proper representation of their get-togethers.. “My room goes to the fire escape; just open the window.” He waved Louis from the door toward the hall extending from the living space. Louis crossed the room without any further encouragement.

As they walked away from the group, the Christmas decor began to disappear. The halls had nothing hanging up except a photo of Zayn and three younger women, presumably his sisters judging from their shared similarities. Never on his birthday had Louis ever missed his own sisters so much. Typically, he was laughing and yelling with his friends just long enough to push the homesick feeling to the soles of his shoes. Before, he could walk right out of it, but now Louis was walking straight into it with every minute that passed. His college family was disrupted and Louis felt wholly responsible.

Zayn stepped into his bedroom and flipped on the single light hanging over his bed. The bed wasn’t made and the pillows were strewn over the messy sheets. There were books and an open backpack on the ground by his desk, which was also covered in textbooks and notebooks. The walls were dark red and the carpet was a passive gray. It was obvious to Louis that most time in Zayn’s room was spent in long stretches, either studying or entertaining, however that came about.

“You can’t leave your own party to smoke.” Zayn said, unlocking his window and wrenching it upward.

“You don’t want me to leave you alone with Casper, do you?” Louis laughed, taking his lighter from his pocket.

Zayn paused, hands pushing the curtains apart completely. “Actually, yeah. I don’t like him all that much. Sorry.”

“Hey, no problem. That makes two of us.” Louis sighed. He searched his pockets for his pack of cigarettes. “Hey, you sure it’s alright to smoke in your room? I know the smell clings.”

“It’s fine.” Zayn said, grabbing his cigarettes from the windowsill. “My boyfriend doesn’t mind the smell.” Both Louis and Zayn froze in their exchange; Zayn’s eyes went wide and Louis tried not to react at all. “I mean-- the, uh, fuck.”

“Your boyfriend doesn’t mind the smell.” Louis repeated, saying it with the confidence Zayn lacked. “That’s all the approval you need.”

Zayn wasn’t comfortable, his lips pressing together as he nodded. “Yeah.” He thrust the pack toward Louis, getting him to take one and giving him the exit he desperately needed.

“Hey, it’s alright, mate.” Louis laughed. “Know who you’re talking to. I’m not going to say anything.” He placed the cigarette between his lips, smiling around it. “I can even lie if you want to have a girlfriend.”

“No, that’s not. No.” Zayn shook his head, placing the pack back down. “I just-- we haven’t really used ‘boyfriend’ yet.”

“Oh, got it.” Louis nodded. Silence seemed to be the only comfort.

“Don’t tell him I said it.” Zayn begged, chewing his bottom lip. “I don’t want to fuck it up.”

Louis had already flicked the lighter on, but held it by the end of his cigarette, not yet lighting it. “Zayn,” Louis said, making his cigarette bounce between his lips. “I don’t _know_ him.”

“Oh, yeah.” Zayn said with a tense laugh. “Right. Not yet.”

“Don’t overthink it.” Louis laughed and finally lit his cigarette. “Harry came out at lunch, I came out over a football game, and Niall-- well, Niall hasn’t said much of anything, but, still if he _were_. We’re all not judgemental, yeah?” Zayn leaned against the window sill, nodding slowly. Louis bent over and rested his elbows on the sill as well, letting the smoke billow out the window. Zayn laughed quietly to himself, Louis turning to see him shaking his own head.

“How do you think Casper came out?” He asked, rolling his eyes. “A formal letter? Or maybe it’s on his stationary.”

Louis coughed, inhaling the smoke through his nose without warning. “I’d believe that. Probably doesn’t even own anything with a rainbow on it. Thinks they’re tacky.”

“Oh they are though.” Zayn teased, nudging Louis with his elbow. “But let me guess: Harry doesn’t think so.”

“You really should meet him without Casper.” Louis said, nodding. “He’s the _embodiment_ of a tacky pride flag.”

“Sounds _delightful_.” Zayn said with an impressed grin. “Liam has told me a bit of stories. Niall, too, of the recent stuff. But I feel like you have all the good stories.”

“Don’t ask me. Ask him yourself.” Louis encouraged. He offered the cigarette to Zayn, holding it carefully out the window. “He’s not ashamed of anything. Quite literally.”

Zayn took the cigarette and a long drag, eyebrows raised. “I’ll have to. See how long it takes before I get evicted from the conversation-- and my own apartment.”

“Harry wouldn’t let him do that.” Louis said. He was sure Casper wouldn’t shut anything down, but couldn’t help but remember Harry’s new trained habit of silencing himself. Maybe Zayn would be shut down even before he could get to anything interesting. There was so much both Zayn and Casper didn’t know, but one party seemed harshly committed to never learning.

They passed the cigarette back and forth only once, Louis mostly finishing it quickly from his long, worried breaths. Zayn offered to start a second but Louis knew they’d never leave his room if they started chain smoking. Louis only did that when he had empty hours ahead of him and all night to swim in his lightheadedness. They left Zayn’s room with only the faint smell of nicotine following them. The sound of quiet guitar chased after them, pulling them back toward the kitchen. Niall was perched on his chair at the counter, guitar resting across his lap and acting as the only running mouth in the dead conversation.

Louis had heard the song before, the melody familiar but nameless in his mind again. Niall strummed it with a pleased smile growing on his face and Harry sang what little words surfaced to his tongue. Zayn reentered the room with a cheerful clap, stating the song Niall was playing was a favorite of his. Niall’s smile found a permanent place on his face and Harry tried enunciating more, trying to get the group involved. Louis didn’t know a single word. Liam was still standing at the end of the counter afraid to engage with any conversation, even though the tension seemed to have dissolved with the warmth of their full stomachs.

Harry had a new glass of white wine in front of him, having to hum the notes as he drank before continuing to sing again. He wasn’t tipsy or compromised at all, finishing his singular sip and holding the glass out to the rest of the group.

“Anyone want some? Please don’t make me finish it.” Harry laughed. He angled the glass toward Louis. “Any more?”

“No. I shouldn’t.” Louis knew better than to try gamble for a second time with his sobriety and ability to keep his mouth shut. “Have that nicotine taste in my mouth still.”

“Want something else to eat?” Niall offered, nodding his head back to the stove.

“Again, I shouldn’t.”

“He needs to save room for his cake.” Liam said, winking at Louis and finally reengaging.

“Guys, you didn’t.” Louis groaned, placing one hand over his face as he leaned his elbow on the counter. “No gifts.”

“This doesn’t count.” Niall countered. “Friends are supposed to keep one another well fed. First rule of grad school, honestly.” Zayn agreed quietly.

“Is it edible?” Louis asked, scrunching his nose as Zayn opened the refrigerator. He lifted up a covered serving plate. “I don’t think I can spend another holiday in the ER again.”

“That was _one time_.” Liam laughed, slapping his arm. He stepped beside him and let his arm rest around his shoulders. Louis leaned against him again, comforted and feeling less bitter. His friends were enough; he had to keep reminding himself. “This one tastes good, I know it.”

“The decorations might be a little subpar though.” Niall tisked, nodding for Zayn to lift the cover.

The cake was circular-- not _quite_ a circle, but not purposely any other shape. The icing was streaked and patchy all the way around, crumbs obviously picked up and spread as they tried to even it out. It was a nice periwinkle, if Louis wanted to compliment anything truthfully. It only had one candle in the middle, small chocolate chips circling the base of the candle.

“It’s perfect, thank you.” Louis grinned. He reached out to touch Niall’s arm and to squeeze Zayn’s hand, both of them nodding with grins of their own. Liam squeezed Louis’ shoulder, tousling his hair quickly. Louis turned to Harry to find the boy stricken silent. He was staring at the cake, eyebrows furrowed and shoulders slowly dropping. “Harry? It’s not that bad, Love. I’m going to eat it.”

“No… I- I didn’t make that. I mean, I didn’t help.” Harry said. He sounded ashamed rather than surprised.

“I text you about it a few days ago.” Niall said, pulling his phone out of his pocket again. As Niall released the guitar, Zayn grabbed the neck with one hand to keep it from tumbling while his other dug through drawers for a knife.

“We were doing something that day, Harry.” Casper said matter-of-factly. An exact day came to mind before Niall had even located the text.

“How do you know?” Harry asked, blinking at him. “Did you _answer my texts_?”

“We were already busy when he asked you.” Casper countered, intent skewed by faux innocence. “I figured it would be better than getting drunk on cheap wine and smearing paste on a cake.”

“You want to try that again?” Zayn said, hand dropping the guitar neck to brace himself on the counter, as if about to jump over it. Harry immediately held his hands up.

“It’s fine. It’s fine, Zayn.” He was laughing, but he wasn’t entertained. “Casper, I don’t really think this is the place to argue this, so I won’t but,” He puffed out another chuckle, blinking quickly as he ran his fingers behind his ears out of habit; his hair was already pulled back. “I wanted to bake a cake for my best friend’s birthday. It’s what you do when you lo--” He stopped. _I know_ . Louis only had the voicemail to bring him close to hearing Harry say it, and now he had the pained look on Harry’s face to match the static silence in the recording. “When you have been friends for four years. I care about Louis and I want to bake him a _bloody_ cake.” Harry laughed again, his hands falling to rest in his lap. “Didn’t know you stopped having a heart once you turned thirty.”

“That’s _not_ what I meant.” Casper sighed, still trying to keep a smile on his face. Both of them seemed unable to commit to the argument. They were unwilling to make the first step into being the bad guy, so instead they were going to passively shout at each other through forced laughter.

Louis had entered a new level of hell. Zayn was well prepared, finding the cake knife in the drawer and spinning the handle between fingers.

“Then, _please_ , tell me what you meant by forcing me to _miss a chance to make my best friend a birthday cake_.” Harry lifted his voice into a near sing-song tone as he spoke. Louis pressed himself farther into Liam’s side and Liam’s hand tightened around his shoulder. “I must be missing something here.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation.” Casper said firmly. “Can we talk about this later?”

“I don’t see why--”

“Harry, we’re talking about this _later_.” He repeated. “Later, babe.” Harry turned and noticed the tense expressions on each of his friends’ faces. Louis tried to appear the least uncomfortable.

“Oh, yeah. You’re right.” He straightened his posture and let out a less convinced laugh. “The cake looks great, Niall. Anyone got a light for it?” Harry patted his own pockets, eyes dropping to his lap. He pushed up his sweaters sleeves and ran a hand behind his ear again. “I don’t have a lighter.” He muttered, remembering.

“I do. Here.” Zayn dropped the knife against the counter to fish through the drawer for a lighter. “I definitely have one.”

“Here.” Louis said, placing his on the table. “But I don’t think I’m allowed to light my own cake though, right?”

“No. Definitely not.” Niall said taking it quickly.

Niall struggled to light the flame, thumb slipping over the wheel too quickly and without enough force to spark it. Both Zayn and Liam tried to help him, escaping the silence involved in waiting. Liam gave verbal instructions while Zayn reached over and placed his thumb over Niall’s, pushing it down and getting the flame to erupt. Louis sat back in his chair as it all happened, trying to avoid how Harry was shifting closer to Casper in his seat, placing a hand on his leg and speaking quietly. Apologizing. Placating. Breaking Louis’ heart.

With a strum of his guitar, Niall led them all in a chorus of Happy Birthday. The five of them weren’t bad, most of them laughing over their own unagreed key. Of course, Niall was the only one in the same key as the chords he was strumming; Liam didn’t very much care and was just shouting the words while shaking Louis by the shoulders; Zayn was singing so softly that without seeing his lips move, Louis wouldn’t have known; even Casper sang along, his tone not leaving much of that used to speak, but still loud enough to hear. Harry sang the closest to Niall’s key, his voice gentle but not quiet, soft but not unheard. His was a romantic serenade but everyone knew the words; Louis preferred their silences.

“Make a wish!” Liam said, clapping his shoulder. “Don’t waste it.” He meant don’t waste it on a boy, but Louis was going to do it anyway.

He wanted a sign, something that would show him not to lose hope in the friendship he had built over the past three, turning four, years. It was evident they weren’t sure how to function without the other-- they _needed_ each other-- but there was the fleeting feeling that the closeness was all romantic. Platonically, they’d have nothing left. They had been in love the whole time.

Louis wished for his best friend and blew out the candles.

They removed the candle and Zayn started bringing down small serving plates. As Niall started sizing up pieces for everyone, Louis’ first of course, Liam pretended to shove Louis into the cake face first. The outcry was immediate. Niall’s hand went out to brace Louis’ chest while Louis reached out and grabbed onto the closest bodies: Liam and Harry. Louis pretended he hadn’t twisted up Harry’s shirt enough to see his fern tattoos and pretended with far more ferocity that he didn’t like seeing them.

“I was still going to eat it regardless of a face print or not.” Casper said, trying his hand at comedy. The group took it surprisingly well, his charm back on and working its magic. “Kiss a cheek for some icing.”

“Harry’s hair only has holly, not mistletoe.” Niall pointed out, sliding Louis the first plate.

“I told him mistletoe was better.” Casper sighed, reaching up to fiddle with one of the prickly leaves. “He never listens.”

“I am not _nearly_ drunk enough to be underneath any mistletoe.” Harry argued with a short laugh. “I mean, Blondie, back me up.”

“That’s true. Two years ago: you said you had never had eggnog but you drank half of it.”

“A third.” Harry said. “One third was me, one third was you and Liam, and the other third was Louis.”

“I think the evidence lies in the fact I have _no_ clue what you’re talking about.” Louis admitted, shaking his head. “But that sounds like us.”

“Who kissed who?” Zayn asked, lifting his eyebrows. Louis suddenly wracked his brain to see if maybe his wet dreams were realistic for _reason_. Harry’s startled expression reflected he was thinking the same.

“Relax. It’s far less interesting.” Niall laughed, shaking his head and handing out more cake. “It was just me.”

“I don’t remember that, Blondie.” Harry said, squinting his eyes. “Don’t mix dreams with reality.” Louis could’ve taken the same advice. He focused himself on his piece of cake, trying to perfectly separate the layer of icing from the chocolate sponge.

“It was on the cheek. You were nineteen. You were adorable. And you were _tabled_.” Niall reached over and squeezed Harry’s chin. “Christmas cheer, you said.”

“Sounds like Harry.” Casper teased. He accepted the cake with a gracious smile at Niall. “Hey. Can you eat this, babe? With eggs and all?” Harry turned toward him, pulling the fork between his lips and smearing them blue.

“Well. It’s already in my mouth, so.”

“That doesn’t say much.” Liam said quickly, immediately stuffing his fork in his mouth to silence himself. Harry’s head turned slowly, placing the fork back into his mouth. “Sorry.” Liam muttered, although he was still laughing.

“ _Bastard_.” Harry cried, giggling. He dipped his hand into his cake, covering his four fingers in icing before standing from his chair. He lunged at Liam, buttercream smearing all over his cheek and down his shirt. He was reaching over the counter in front of Louis, bracing a hand on his shoulder for balance.

“Oh fuck no.” Liam said, grabbing his own piece of cake. He smashed it down on Harry’s head before anyone had the chance to reason with them. “Blue’s your color, Harold.”

Harry leaned back, sucking his teeth and glaring at Liam. Louis smothered his laughter with his own bite of cake before grabbing his napkin and starting to wipe the icing from Harry’s head. Harry didn’t sit back down and leaned against the counter, arm bracing on the back of Louis’ chair, bracketing him in. It was the closest they had been in days, and it felt inappropriate. Being in front of their friends, in front of Casper, felt taboo. They knew what the touches meant and Louis was afraid it would show on their faces.

“Do you know how long it took me to do my hair, Liam?” Harry asked with theatrics, rolling his eyes. “At least _ten seconds_.”

“I don’t think it’s going to make it, Styles.” Louis sighed. “It’s going to have to come out.”

“If you _must_.” He ducked his head to be level with Louis’ eyes. Louis made quick work of pulling the Holly out of his bun and untying his hair. His hair spilled over and hung on either side of his face. With the napkin in his hand, Louis raked his hand through Harry’s hanging curls. It wasn’t the way Louis had thought of doing it most recently, but it was probably for the better it happened that way. Dreams and reality: keep them separate by asserting reality. Just cake, just hair, just best friends.

“I think you might have to wash it.” Louis said. “Your hair is blue.”

“Cut it out.” Casper said, placing a hand on Harry’s lower back, leaning on the counter to see the hair himself.

“It’s not _gum_.” Harry answered sharply, still hunched over.

“Just a suggestion.”

“My bathroom’s down the hall if you want to wash it, Harry.” Zayn pointed off where he and Louis had disappeared for a smoke earlier. “Second door on the right. First door has towels.”

Harry flipped his hair back and pushed all hands off of him. “Thank you.” he said. He shed his sweater onto the back of his chair and walked off to the bathroom. Casper followed him immediately as if storming off rather than being summoned.

The quiet rush of water started as Louis began to finally eat his cake. He hadn’t quite noticed the taste of the bite he used to hide his amusement of Harry wearing his dessert. The cake was actually edible-- almost _delicious_. He finished his piece before Zayn or Liam could make their first comments about their hard work. Niall silently held up the knife, offering to cut Louis another piece. He took the offer without hesitation, the slick grit of the buttercream doing wonders to coat the stale nicotine taste on his tongue. The jittering in his fingers would soon be replaced by a sugar rush.

“Have you heard from the family yet today?” Liam asked Louis. “Sure Pheebs misses you.” Louis’ younger sister, despite being one of many, was always the most vocal in how much she wished Louis hadn’t gone to university in the States.

“Not yet. They always travel on Christmas Eve.” Louis shrugged. “Can you imagine wrestling all those kids into a car? No thank you. I’ll call tomorrow early. Happy Christmas, Happy birthday, all the bases.”

“Wish you were home for it?” Zayn asked. “Niall said you’ve got like, four sisters.”

“Five and a brother on me mum’s side.” Louis said. “All younger. The lights of my life. Wish I was home, but only for Christmas or something-- don’t need the whole three weeks. Besides, I’m going back at the end of the semester; I’m going to miss you guys a hell of a lot more.”

“Is Harry moving back too?” Zayn continued. “Or is he going to stay in DC?”

“Not sure.” Liam shrugged. Before, they had all been so comfortable assuming Harry would be living with Casper by the time they graduated, but after the past few days the idea of Harry marrying Casper to change his visa seemed more like a drastic nightmare than a possibility.  “I’m sure he’ll go home for a bit.”

“His mum keeps calling him to come back.” Louis agreed, swiping his finger along the edge of the cake for more frosting. “You saw him talking the other day; it’s really winding him up.” Louis sucked on his finger and shrugged.

Louis and the others had only been present for one phone call, but it echoed so many Harry had finished before. Harry and his parents were loving, caring, and genuinely kind to one another, but the tension of Harry being so far away from them magnified the consequences of each of his decisions thirty times-- one for each year Casper had apparently aged. Louis hoped Harry didn’t feel homesick during their group holiday; he only got homesick when he felt alone.

“So he’ll go back.” Zayn said, trying not to dwell in the sorrowful silence. “You’ll have someone over there then, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll always have Harry.” Louis smiled. He didn’t quite believe it anymore, but he knew it was true. “Can’t get rid of each other.”

Down the hall, the rushing water stopped and raised voices leaked from the walls. The four of them heard the clatter of a doorknob before the  door was shut at a close distance. Neither Harry nor Casper’s words could be made out, but there was definitely one voice speaking more than the other. The pattern was fast, cutting back and forth without much of a break or thought put between them. The doorknob twisted again; a wet hand most likely trying to turn it while shaking with frustration. The door slammed closed a second time and all four boys moved from the counter. They made an arc by the end of the hall, straining to hear a clear word or phrase. Both voices were speaking over top of each other by the time they all reached the mouth of the hallway, deciding if they should go to the bathroom.

The door opened before anyone got the chance or the guts.

“I don’t need to hear this fucking _bullshit_ again.” Harry cried, pushing his way out of the bathroom. He shouldered the door open, avoiding having it shut a third time. “It’s my fucking decision. Not yours.”

“Well, I like to think my opinion is valued after all.” Casper shouted after him, stepping into the hallway. All four boys stepped back, going back to the counter. Harry made a beeline for his sweater hanging on the chair. His hair was soaking wet and hanging on his white shirt. Water dripped streaks all down his back and left droplets on the floor behind him.

“Your opinion is shit, Casper. Arrogant, inflated, bullshit.” Harry answered, harshly shoving his arms through the sleeves of his sweater. “If I wanted to hear an adults opinion I’d call my fucking parents.” How apropos.

“Don’t you dare--”

“Then _stop_ trying to parent me. I’m _not_ a child.”

“Then stop acting like one!” Casper screamed, placing a single accusatory finger on Harry’s chest.

“Hey, hey, come on. Let’s cool down.” Niall shouted, scrambling to step up between them.

“It’s fine.” Harry said, holding a hand out to Niall. “I was just leaving.”

“No, Harry. Don’t, please.” Liam reached for his arm but was swiftly swatted away. He had done enough for Harry; he didn’t need to be responsible for talking him down as well. “Harry!”

“Happy fucking Christmas.” He said, lifting a hand to wave. The door slammed behind Harry, shaking the few pictures hanging on the walls. The Christmas lights hanging around the cabinets came loose and swung low by the floor.

“I suggest you leave next.” Zayn said, looking at Casper pointedly. “You aren’t welcome in my home again.”

“Zayn,” Niall whispered, turning to him with pleading eyes. “Not now.”

“I don’t want someone starting fights in my house. Either one of them.” Zayn said firmly. “I can worry about my first impression later. He’s made an awful one.” Casper looked at Zayn as if horribly wounded by his words. He was but not at all angered by his remarks.

“I get it. Friends have to defend friends.” He lifted his hands in surrender before reaching for his coat. “Thank you for dinner, it was lovely. Merry Christmas-- and Happy birthday, Louis. I’ll see you around… in better spirits.” He bowed his head to the four of them and swiftly walked to the door.  It closed gently behind him.

“I feel like we should all be getting home.” Liam said, placing his uneaten cake down.

The silence was hard to avoid. Even in its first moments, Harry’s absence was prominent. Typically, on Louis’ birthday, they’d all be drunk by then, singing and lying around on the floor of one of their dorms. Louis would have his arms around Liam and Niall with his feet resting in Harry’s lap. His vision would be blurry and his teeth would be buzzing and the entire world would seem to be in his grasp, warm and shaking with possibility. He’d be surrounded by the same three people he carried with him from his nineteenth birthday onward. They had always been enough.

A strange emptiness opened in Louis with Harry’s exit. It highlighted the distance growing between them in a way they had been ignoring all too well. Louis felt empty and in need of his mother. With Harry physically gone then, and emotional already absent, only Louis’ family was capable of possibly pushing the halves of his heart back together. There wasn’t much else to make him whole. Nothing else could possibly be enough.

“I really should.” Louis agreed, pushing his chair back. The metal legs scraped along the wood floor, silencing the rebuttals effortlessly. “I’m exhausted.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here? Your dorm is freezing, Louis.” Zayn said. “It’d be no problem at all.”

“I think it’d be better if I just left you to your Christmas Eve stuff.” Louis muttered, slipping his arms into his jacket. “Finish the cake for me. It’s delicious.”

“Text us tomorrow, okay?” Niall asked. He lifted his lips but didn’t quite smile.

“I’ll start typing before I even open my eyes.” Louis said, nodding. He started his lap around the room, hugging each boy. “Good night everyone.”

“Bye.”

“Happy Birthday!”

“Sleep well, man.” Liam said, fitting it in just before Louis shut the door.

Louis loitered outside the door to wait for any further arguing to float up to Zayn’s room. It was silent. It was safe. He took the stairs down and started back immediately to campus. Louis stayed attentive for any familiar voices as he briskly walked home, trying to avoid both the neighborhood and exposure. He took his phone out of his pocket at first to check the time, nine o’clock, but had the thought of calling his family before putting it back. He couldn’t. It was far too early to call and wake his family with a stupid and pointless phone call.

He stuffed his phone away and jogged the last block to get past the school’s front gatehouse. He wished he still had a functional skateboard, something to get him back under his covers as quickly as possible. It was his greatest accessory for escape.

As if possible, the campus courtyard seemed to be stricken into a frozen stillness. Louis filling dinner now sat heavy in his stomach as he wandered through the stiff dying grass. It was one of the most anticipated nights of the year, houses buzzing with seasonal joy and their bright lights shining up into the right sky, and Louis was restless beyond sleep. He stopped wandering by the stone wall built at the end of the courtyard facing the Student Center. He could still see Harry, newly nineteen and cherubic, sitting on the ledge and passing Louis the dripping apple. He watched the memory from a distance, for the first time realizing just how close he had been back then to reaching out and taking Harry’s hand in his own. He could have ended all the complication before it had begun.

Louis’ nose was running and his ears burned in the crisp evening air, but it was worth the pain for a cigarette-- and probably was just as cold in his dorm. If he was at home in Doncaster, he wouldn’t need to call his sister or his mother. He could have rolled out of bed and shuffled through the hallway and gone into Daisy and Phoebe’s room and flopped onto either of their beds, whispering excitedly about Santa Claus. He could have been swaddled up in warm, worn quilts. He would’ve had more on top of him than hours he planned to sleep that night. He could have been jittery and restless for all the right reasons.

Instead, on that Christmas Eve he was sitting in crunching and yellowing grass trying to block the wind and get a light on his cigarette. He didn’t wish he was home, but he wished his loneliness hadn’t followed him across an ocean. Then, he would’ve been able to enjoy the rare solitude of campus without wondering how quickly he could make time pass. His pack couldn’t last much past midnight.

The first inhale was shallow out of habit. Louis just wanted to get it in his lungs and in his body the fastest way; he didn’t have the patience to take a steady breath in. He unloaded his pockets on the grass, making more room for his hands. He placed his cigarettes and lighter in his lap, resting between his knees, and his phone beside him in the grass. The temptation was stronger, his drags still not deep or slow. He wanted his mother, as pathetic as it was.

He held the cigarette between his lips and dialed his mother’s cell phone number. It rang twice before clicked off the hook.

“H-Hello?” She muttered. “Honey, it’s late-- _early_. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to hear your voice.” Louis said, quickly taking the cigarette out of his mouth. His mother had never seen him smoke and wasn’t about to reveal it through muffled words. “I-I had a weird day.”

“Oh, okay.” She sniffled and sorted through Louis’ disguised sentence. “What happened?”

“Stuff with the boys.” Louis said softly. “It feels different.”

“I don’t follow, honey.” Louis’ mother spoke quietly not to wake the rest of the house, but it sounded to Louis like she was muttering out of frustration. He had to talk himself out of hanging up. “Did someone say something?”

“New boyfriends. A lot of them.” Louis sighed. “Or girlfriends? I don’t know.” Niall hadn’t introduced his girlfriend that night, everything spiraling too far out of control for a good first impression.

“A-Are you talking about yourself, honey? I told you whatever you are, the girls and I--”

“It’s not me, Mum.” Louis said. He used the awkward silence to take another drag from his cigarette. “Niall. And Harry.”

“Oh, _honey_.”

“Don’t say it like that.” Louis snapped, shooting the smoke out quickly. His mother didn’t know the extent of his feelings for Harry, but she seemed to get enough. She had heard plenty of conversations to know that their friendship had an important pillar of both being their happiest when they were both single and able to flirt harmlessly. It took Louis four years to learn, but his mother probably figured it out after his first phone call home at orientation. “I’m not _that_ terrible that I can’t be happy for him. Casper’s… _nice_.”

“You don’t like him.” She laughed quietly.

“I don’t.”

“And why’s that, honey?” She asked. The line crackled in the silence, Louis putting his cigarette in his mouth to cut off his immediate response. He was forced to think, to consider his past three meetings with Casper and his argument with him. Louis waded in thoughts of Casper’s jokes at the pub, his stern glares, his wandering hands, and his missing empathy. Louis blew out the smoke slowly, letting it cloud his vision while he seemed to see everything else so clearly.

“Harry doesn’t seem as happy.” Louis admitted. “At least, not when I’ve seen him.”

“Do you have something to do with that-- an influence?” She asked, yawning in the middle of her sentence. “We both know you aren’t very soft spoken sometimes, Louis.”

“Yeah, but--”

But his mother was completely right. While Louis was busy disliking Casper to show he was the better choice, Casper was on the other end trying to fit in with Harry’s younger, oddball friends. There was already very little in common for him to latch onto, and the one person that made their circles overlap wasn’t allowed to be the subject of conversation without a competition arising. Louis wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if any fight of theirs had been about the four of them. If a single snide remark between them had been about how disgusted Louis looked as he spotted Casper’s hand dragging over Harry’s leg, picturing it holding him impossibly close without earning a minute of it.

“How did you do that?”

“It’s what I’m here for.” She said with another yawn. “Glad I could help, honey. If _that’s_ what I did.”

“I’m sorry I woke you.” Louis said. He could heard another voice emerging from the line. “I’m sorry. I should go.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His mother seemed to know, her voice more alert the faster Louis tried to back away from the conversation. “You don’t just call at two in the morning to complain about a boyfriend.”

Louis couldn’t tell her he was in love with Harry. He could barely tell the man himself.

“I did.” Louis tried to laugh. “I just left dinner and… and I was feeling homesick. And Harry’s no help right now.”

“You’ll be home soon, sweetheart. You’re flying home for spring break, yeah?” Her smile was audible. “You’ll see the girls and Ernest. They’ve gotten so big since the last time you’ve been home.”

“Yeah?” Louis smiled as he thought of the gurgling babies he left in August and the near toddlers he’d return to in March. “Still believe in Santa, yeah?”

“It was harder this year without all your stories.” She confessed. “But they left the cookies out-- all you favorites, might I mention-- and were in bed by seven thirty.”

“I miss you, Mum.”

“We all love you, Louis.” She sounded assuring. She knew he needed to hear it, and to know it was unconditional and true. “It’s late there too, isn’t it? Get some sleep and we’ll talk again when it’s light, okay?”

“Sure, Mum. Sorry again.” Louis muttered. He stubbed out the butt of his cigarette and straightened his posture, as if she could see him. “Love you.”

“Love you too. Good night.” The call ended and Louis placed his phone back in the grass.

Louis sat with himself for a bit as the night reclaimed its silence from him. He was no longer homesick, but he didn’t feel that much better. He hated part of himself for calling his mother so carelessly with barely anything to say. It was the first time they had spoken in a bit of time, and all she heard was Louis’ pouting, pathetic voice. All she could even offer was the truth of her son’s inability to get out of his own way. She was probably lying in bed, worrying just what in the hell her son was becoming back in America. Louis was wondering the same thing.

It was plausible that Louis was the cause of the turbulence in Harry and Casper’s relationship. It had been a month, hadn’t it? A honeymoon-ish three weeks that crashed the moment Louis showed his sour expression in that pub. Harry’s best friend couldn’t co-exist with his boyfriend, or his happiness it seemed.

Louis opened his pack and pulled out another cigarette, cupping his hand around the end to light it. His first breath was slow and long. He held the smoke in, closing his eyes and letting it burn and crackle in his lungs. Before Louis could let it stream out from his lips, he was startled by the sound of crunching grass. He puffed out his smoke in a messy cloud and squinted in the shadows. A figure slowly emerged, a bag swinging in their hand. The bag peaked out of the darkness and under the nearby streetlamp, lighting it up first before its body. Louis recognized the hand gripping the handles; a good Catholic boy with a cross tattooed beside his thumb.

“I was hoping you’d be here.” Harry said once in earshot. He was finally in a coat-- his beloved striped number-- but his shoulders were still hunched against the cold. The shoulder seam of his jacket was still ripped, the string coiled and frayed and unavoidable. Louis tried not to speak immediately, his words the obvious and responsible seam splitter. “Can I sit?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Louis muttered. He moved over as if making space in the open grass. “Shouldn’t you be with Casper?” He didn’t mean it with malice.

“We decided not to go home together. We knew we’d just end up fighting all night.” He shrugged and plopped down next to Louis. He held the tall bag in his lap, making sure the top was creased over and hiding its contents. “And I had the feeling you’d still be awake.”

“Just so excited for Christmas.” Louis grumbled, taking a slow drag of his cigarette.

“Come on. There’s no one around. Just me.” Harry said, bumping his shoulder into Louis’. “How _awful_ was that dinner?”

“I’m smoking, aren’t I?” Louis sighed, pressing his lips together and forcing the smoke out between them. Harry laughed quietly, mostly through his nose and completely accepting Louis’ attitude.

“Sorry I ruined your birthday, Louis.” Harry said, reaching out and placing a hand on Louis’ knee. His eyes were wide and sincere. He knew what he had done, but didn’t seem to point a finger at Louis for his rightful blame.

“You didn’t.” Louis assured him. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

“I did.” Harry fired back, nodding. “I know I did. But, I hope this will change things-- we still have a few hours left of your birthday.” He shifted the bag closer to Louis, pressing his lips together in a tight smile.

“We don’t do gifts.”

“Would you just take it?” Harry laughed, pushing it into his hands. Louis gently put out his cigarette to relight later when he wasn’t near so much tissue paper. “It’s from all of us.”

“No. Fucking hell-- _Harry_.” Louis said, folding the top of the bag over again. “You guys don’t have to.”

“We all pooled together and bought it. But they decided I got to give it to you because-- well, you’ll see.” Harry said, biting his lip. “Go on then. Birthday is counting down, Love.”

The bag was heavy, the object inside denting the creased shape of the thick paper bag. The tissue paper occupied most of the bag, Louis grabbing fistfuls and throwing them at Harry before finally grabbing onto something solid. It was rough, dragging along Louis’ fingernails accidentally and making him shiver. He gripped it easily with the emory board texture and lifted it from the bag. It was a new skateboard, all four wheels in place and the deck uncracked.

“Oh, Harry. You guys didn’t have to.” Louis gasped, slowly placing it in his lap.

“You needed a new skateboard, and we wanted to make this one special.” Harry tapped the underneath of the deck, urging Louis to flip it over. “I’ve been MIA for a while trying to finish it in time.”

The bottom of the wooden deck was covered in a collection of vibrant paint. He spotted his name first, written in a delicate script in the center and surrounded with sponged clouds on a clear blue sky. In the sky there were two kites-- one yellow and the other purple-- and the branches of a familiar tree reaching up to the edge of the painted space. The leaves were perfect this time; just on the brink of autumn and bursting with every last shade of green before they faded to yellows and browns. The tree’s branches were heavy with life, supporting small robins and blue jays, and even fruit. There were bushels of apples hanging from the largest and most detailed branch running along the bottom of the board. There were green apples, round and ripe, and waiting to be picked. He could taste the sour juice on his tongue again-- and could feel Harry’s thumb running along his chin. On the other side of the tree, winter pushed autumn aside and brought the brisk monochromatism of the cold. Drawn in black and gray were all of Louis’ tattoo designs, weaving their way across the wood grains like it was his own skin. Closer to the wheels were clusters of symmetrical snowflakes. One snowflake was immediately identified as Harry’s first sketch, the one Louis had spent more time staring at than any textbook. The skateboard was an homage to Louis’ four years at college, but it was also an homage to every memory he had with Harry.

“It’s beautiful.” Louis breathed. He was afraid to touch it, but his fingers were eager to feel the individual brush strokes and feel Harry’s ideas personally. “It’s absolutely beautiful. Thank you.”

“I know that’s not everything important, but I tried to remember everything I could.” Harry admitted. He ran his own hands over the board, tracing Louis’ path. “The tree finally came out right.”

“Now I understand all that practice.” Louis said, giving Harry a knowing look. He looked away coyly and tried to suppress a smile. “And I see you’ve been practicing your snowflakes.”

“My favorite thing to draw, actually.” Harry said. “Every since you told me you liked them. I’ve been practicing this one for a while too. I wanted it perfect.”

“It is.” Louis said, trying to hide the admiration quivering in his chest. “And the apple? Can’t believe you remembered.”

“You mentioned it in the pub and I was so happy _you_ remembered.” Harry laughed. “It was like you had been reading my mind.”

“I don’t know my own power.” Louis teased, still tracing the shapes on the deck. The kites were coated with enough paint to stand up slightly from the rest of the design, as if the wind was causing it to ripple off the wood. “Can’t believe you remembered the kites.”

“Can’t believe?” Harry echoed incredulously. “You nearly blinded me with that fucking thing. Of course I remember those flimsy kites!”

It was their first summer holiday back home from university and Louis drove to see Harry in Holmes Chapel. Harry took him to an open field and they had an afternoon in the grassy solitude. They had a half-planned picnic and flew kites they had found propped up against an overpass wall on the way there. The wind was more skilled with flying the kites than Louis. Every time he tried to get it off the ground it zipped forward, almost always aiming for Harry’s face. Their day ended with Harry playfully tackling Louis to the ground and shouting about controlling his kite. They had rolled on the grass like two fools, Louis grabbing and pulling at Harry’s clothes as Harry poked and tickled Louis’ sides. Louis had eventually rolled on top of Harry and pushed him down, both hands pressed against the boy’s chest. Louis could feel Harry’s heart pounding in his chest, could feel him panting, could see him with his mouth open and cheeks flushed pink. It was the first time Louis felt his simple, naive affections change over into bone-thrumming attraction. It was the first time Louis knew he couldn’t possibly keep his secret to himself forever; it wasn’t going to go away.

But, sure. They were just a pair of flimsy kites.

“I almost don’t know what to say-- it’s amazing.” Louis said finally. There weren’t many words to say than the three that were trapped in the pit of Louis’ stomach, still laying dormant after four years. “Thank you.” He placed the board beside him before reaching over to wrap his arms around Harry, feeling his warmth in his hands again.

“Of course.” Harry said, placing his own hands on Louis’ back. He slapped him twice, as if trying to be platonic, before stopping abruptly. There was no one else around to see them, no one to bare witness to their silence that time. Louis’ one hand splayed across Harry’s shoulders while the other rested on his lower back. Harry’s did the same, pressing Louis close to him. They buried their noses into the neck of the other, their breathing nearly matching up. “I miss you.” Harry muttered, his lips grazing Louis’ neck as he shifted. His voice was tight and strained.

“I miss you too.” Louis whispered. He ran his hand up and down Harry’s back, soothing the boy to relax against him again. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. This has just been…” Harry sighed, his breath hot against Louis’ neck. “I’ve been the worst with Casper. I’m sorry.”

“How is you getting a boyfriend a _fault_?” Louis laughed, pulling away and pushing Harry’s hair off his shoulders to place his hands on them. The ends were still slightly damp and trying to curl in the freezing air. “That’s ridiculous.”

“That day at the cafe. I didn’t handle that right. At _fucking all_ .” Harry said, lowering his eyes. “I really should have waited to drop that bomb on you. I mean, you hadn’t even finished _talking_.” He shook his head and leaned back against the wall. Louis’ hands slipped from his shoulders and back to his own lap. The lighter and opened pack were still waiting for him. He lit his cigarette again, waiting for Harry to continue. “I just wanted you to know that he was the reason I had to turn you down. He’s the only reason.”

“He is?” Louis asked, coughing as his first inhale became a gasp.

Harry lifted his eyes to Louis, laughing softly. “Yes. You know that.” Louis had thought about it, but didn’t expect to be right.

“So, do you love him?” Louis was afraid of the answer but knew it was vital to heal. He had to rebreak the bone to cast it correctly.

“I’m not going to answer that.” Harry said with a sad smile. “I’m not going to do that to you.” That was answer enough, but Louis was able to pretend. “Give me that.” Harry reached over and took the cigarette from Louis’ fingers.

“You don’t smoke.” Louis said dumbly, his hand still caught on the cigarette before Harry’s hand swatted it away. “I’ve never seen you smoke.”

“There are quite a few things you’ve never seen me do.” He said with a smirk.

Harry placed his lips around the end of the cigarette. His cheeks hollowed and his chest swelled as he deeply inhaled. It was obscenely unfamiliar to Louis; a side of Harry that Louis had never seen before. At least, not while he was awake. He definitely hadn’t pictured it either back on that innocent summer afternoon.

“Does the Doctor approve?” Louis teased, reaching over and taking the cigarette back. Harry angled his head back and let the stream of smoke cloud out of his open mouth, tongue running along the bottom of his top teeth. Casper wouldn’t have approved of _many_ things happening in front of Louis.

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.” Harry said, running a hand through his hair. “It’ll kill me instead.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” Louis whispered, taking a drag for himself. He used the smoke to disguise his true line of sight as he watched Harry adjust his jacket, pulling the length up to avoid catching it as he moved. His hands moved along his back, adjusting his rising shirt seam, and running along his thighs to brush the ash that had blown on him. It was simple and functional, but his movements were fascinating. Watching Harry’s own hands on his legs was far better than seeing anyone else’s.

“What?” Harry asked with a laugh, looking down at his clothes. The smoke hadn’t disguised Louis’ face well enough.

“He really hates that coat, huh?” Louis said, the lie surprisingly ready at the tip of his tongue. Harry took the cigarette from Louis quickly. He also seemed to have something sitting on the edge of his tongue.

“And my hair. And how I talk. And my pants. And my shoes.” He said, tapping the ash off on the wall. “He’s never dated someone so…”

“Confident?”

“‘Loud’ is his preferred adjective.” Harry muttered. “Never dated someone so loud before. Growing pains, I guess.” He rolled his eyes and took a long drag before handing the smoke back to Louis.

“The growing pains only seem to be hurting you though.” Louis said, scrunching up his nose to try and soften his remark. It seemed Casper’s big mouth was proving to be a major player again, Louis able to shift the guilt from his shoulders. Or maybe just push it down to his feet.

“He’ll get over it.” Harry grumbled. “I’m not cutting my hair.”

“Why does he want you to do that?” Louis said before a long inhale. He held his breath and waited, the smoke stinging the back of his throat like sand in his lungs. “That’s four years of work. You were… _interesting looking_ for a long time to look this good.” Louis ran a hand through Harry’s hair, spinning the curls on his fingertips.

“God,” Harry said, his hand coming up to slap over his face. He bent forward to laugh but continued to lean until he was resting his head on Louis’ lap. “Remember that time we tried headbands? What a fucking mistake.” Harry _had_ remembered. Of course he did.

“Hey, you tried headbands. _I_ was the photographer.” Louis laughed. He placed his hand on the back of Harry’s head, still threading his fingers around his curls.

“That blackmail is too powerful for you, Love.” Harry laughed. He shifted and rolled onto his side, turning to look up at Louis. His cheek rested against Louis’ thigh.

“Blackmail? They’re my favorite pictures of you. You’ve never looked more happy.”

“I was spending all night with you, of course I did.” Harry said. He didn’t fumble with his words or hesitate to admit the truth. He kept his eyes fixed on Louis through the coil of cigarette smoke. “I was in love.”

“Harry,” Louis muttered. He couldn’t have the first time Harry ever told him he loved him in person be in past tense, redefining an old memory. A voicemail’s silence was enough torture, he didn’t need the past to be painted with heartbreak.

“I know. We missed it.” He rolled onto his back and stared up at the night sky. With the streetlamps, none of the stars were visible, but it was vast enough to catch their attention anyway. Harry grabbed Louis’ wrist and pulled the cigarette to his mouth. He inhaled sharply before letting Louis pull away. “Still feels good to remember though.”

“I know. It’s all I have.”

Harry closed his eyes. “I wish it was different.”

“I wish it was like it used to be.” Louis admitted, fiddling with the filter. “Us giving each other space is the opposite of helpful.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know what it’s like to not have you on the phone every blinking second.” Louis laughed. “We’re best friends.”

“You’re my boy.” Harry said softly, reaching up and gently brushing his fingers over Louis’ cheek. “No one is ever going to change that, you know. You’re always mine.”

“Then can we go back to that?” Louis didn’t want to beg, but he could feel it edging into his voice. He placed his hand over Harry’s and held the warm hand to his cheek. “Can we just, _be_?”

“I’d love that.” Harry looked up at Louis, smiling and pressing his tongue between his teeth. “I’ve really needed my best friend lately.”

“I know.” Louis muttered, putting his cigarette between his lips. He placed his other hand on Harry’s forehead and slowly pushed his hair back. “I heard.”

Harry rolled his face into Louis’ lap, his hands dropping from Louis’ face to cover his own. “Oh god. That was such an embarrassing voicemail. Crying like a goddamn child.”

“Why shouldn’t you cry?” Louis asked, still smoothing his hair down. “You cry all the time.”

“Not a compliment.” Harry groaned, hands sliding down his face. “I couldn’t even tell a single story without tearing up. And Casper just kind of sat there and took it? He didn’t say anything to soothe me. He just let me cry.” Louis hummed in response as he blew another puff of smoke out over Harry’s head. “I suppose that’s not a _bad_ response, but it’s not the best. You always know what to do.”

“It’s instinct.” Louis said, rolling his eyes. “I just know these things. My powers.” Harry was an instinct for him; a gut reaction. Anything in the whole world could tie back to the boy resting in his lap. And maybe, just maybe, Harry was back to _being_ Louis’ whole world. “Harry?”

“Yes, Love?”

“Are we... _good,_ now?” Louis held the cigarette down to Harry’s eye level, hoping to distract him.

“Always were.” Harry winked, taking the cigarette. Harry took another long drag, his cheeks pulling hard before going slack and letting his mouth hang open. He let the smoke coil out of his mouth again, watching it billow in a small stream. Louis watched too.

They passed the cigarette until it was nearly burning their fingers and started another one. They could have easily started their own, but sharing was a far better experience. It gave their fingers the chance to find each other again. They were admitting that much-- that they’d like to be holding each other-- but knew that it wasn’t in the cards for them. Things weren’t much different than before, but Louis found new solace in it. It was over between them-- not literally of course, because Louis would never be able to extinguish the smoking, kite-chasing embers in his chest as he watched Harry’s strong drag flare up the ones at the end of their shared cigarette-- but in a way that gave answers. With Casper in Harry’s life and heart, things were at a standstill, but Casper also wasn’t Louis’ enemy anymore; he was already Harry’s, it seemed. Getting rid of Casper, no matter how minor Louis’ planned operations were, weren’t his business. The same heart that Louis was trying to have be broken by Casper would have to be the same one to still love him. As a true friend, Louis couldn’t hope to see that heart shattered. He wanted it whole and skipping beats every time that man-- that stupid _fucking_ man-- walked in the room.

“Fuck it’s so cold.” Louis muttered, pulling on his own collar before pulling Harry’s closer to his neck. “I wonder if it’s going to snow.” That’d be the perfect beginning to Christmas, but a terrible end to Louis’ already freezing evening; his dorm would be a literal icebox.

“Did I tell you Niall was supposed to introduce his boyfriend tonight?” Harry giggled suddenly. The late hour was acting as an inebriant for the two of them.

“His what?” Louis blinked at Harry, his face forming a scowl. “Niall has a girlfriend.”

“That’s a load of shit, by the way.” Harry said with another laugh. “He’s been texting me since August about this boy he’s seeing.”

“August? Why haven’t we heard about it?” Louis cried, gently tugging on Harry’s curls.

“I don’t know! It just started as some basic…. _Questions_ .” Harry cleared his throat. “Niall didn’t really know how to flirt with men. And I, of course, do. So I answered all his odd-hour questions. Then the summer fling lasted.” He pressed his lips together and looked like he was choking on another bubble of laughter. “And I got _more_ questions.”

“Oh, wow.” Louis muttered. “And you don’t know who this guy is?”

“Not a clue. He never told me his name in any of the stories. I was really excited to meet him tonight!” Harry held his hand up, waiting for Louis to slot the cigarette between his fingers. “But, I can see why he didn’t want him there. Two of his friends-- well, one and Casper-- we trying to kill each other in Zayn’s bathroom.”

Louis gave Harry the cigarette and rested his hand on Harry’s head, thumb tapping at his hairline. “What kind of stories?”

“None that you’re thinking.” Harry teased. “They had dinner earlier this week I think. Beers, talking, shooting the shit at Zayn’s place.”

“Riveting.”

“He kept talking about how _in love_ he was. Sitting there, sharing beers with him the whole night and never getting their own.” Harry sighed and let the smoke cloud around him as his face dropped. “How sweet, right? You remember when love was like that? Sharing everything to avoid being apart?” He handed Louis back their cigarette. Louis took a quick drag, handing it back.

“Not really.” Louis muttered. “Can’t believe you were right about Niall the whole time.”

“I _knew_ the whole time. I was trying to break the ice for him.” Harry said. “If I say it enough, Liam won’t bat an eye when the last guy in the group gets a boyfriend. Well, I also can’t speak for Zayn-- who is a fucking _dime_ , might I add?” Harry whistled.

“Well, you’re in luck. He’s on our team too.” Louis laughed, resting his head against the stones behind him. “He told me about his boyfriend tonight.”

“No shit.”

“On accident when we were in his room-- apparently the boyfriend doesn’t mind the smell of cigarettes.” Louis recounted. “You would have thought I was going to throw him out the window from the way he froze up. He apparently forgot his audience-- and everyone at that party.”

“I can’t believe it.” Harry said, reaching up and waving his hands through Louis’ cloud of smoke. “Sharing beers and tolerating each other’s vices. I can’t imagine having the four of them in the same room. Too fucking endearing.”

“Yeah, God that’d be too much.” Louis agreed.

“You know, he said he had dinner with him and some friends; maybe they were the test group.” Harry shrugged, situating himself better in Louis’ lap. “Although, how subtle can you be sharing a beer with a guy _that hot._ I mean, talking with your friends and just… passing a phallic looking bottle? That’s not even a _little bit_ heterosexual _\--_ ”

“Harry.” Louis said, sitting further upright and jostling Harry’s head. Louis had a clear vision of a time he saw Niall sharing a beer with another man. He had been sitting at the then-stranger’s kitchen counter and popping off bottle caps with his keys, all the while Louis was complaining about his sore luck with Harry. Which _someone_ tried to fix. “I was one of those friends.”

“What?” Harry laughed. He pressed his head down on Louis’ thighs, trying to get him to stop moving. “What are you talking about?”

“Niall’s dinner. That was the one you couldn’t make because you were getting Casper. W-We had dinner at Zayn’s place.” Louis said, words gathering speed as his realization set in. “Oh my god. Oh my _god_. Niall is Zayn’s boyfriend.”

“No… No that can’t be right.” Harry muttered. “He’s been under our noses all this time?”

“Under a lot of things, I’m going to assume.” Louis muttered.

“You’d be correct.” Harry giggled, hand flying up to cover his mouth. It was an impish laugh, Louis instinctively digging his fingers into Harry’s ribs, tickling him to hear more. They weren’t flying kites and the grass was far less green, but Harry’s eyes made up for it all. “D-Don’t! I’m gonna start wheezing!” Harry cough, the cold air tight in their throats.

“Then tell me what you know!” Louis demanded, wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist playfully as he leaned over him. Harry’s face was directly under Louis’ as they laughed, grinning up at each other. He knew the distance between their lips would stay. He wished they were both weaker men.

“He was just asking me for my professional opinion.” Harry cried, pushing on Louis’ hand. Louis quickly stubbed out his cigarette to free up his other hand. “He was a little nervous-- _stop, stop! My side is stitching_.”

Louis stopped and let his hands rest on Harry’s waist, if only to exaggerate his faux shock. “Professional opinion? About what? You’re the worst flirt.”

“You don’t seem to mind it.” Harry teased, his own hands reaching out to grab at Louis’ waist.

“Oh, fuck you.”

“ _I’m waiting_.” They said together, firmly jabbing each other in the side.

“What were you teaching Niall?” Louis asked, pushing Harry off his legs so he laid flat on the grass. He pulled his own legs underneath himself so he was kneeling over Harry. His long hair was starred out on the grass, curling into the wilting blades. “What can Zayn thank you for?”

“You are _the worst_ .” Harry all but squealed, his feet kicking out as Louis started pressing closer to him. Louis’ leg pressed against Harry’s thigh, in danger of going over it and slotting their legs together. “I’m not _Playboy_.”

“But you are the only boy I know who has every guy he’s ever met wrapped around his finger. Niall picked the right boy.” Louis teased. “My boy.” Louis’ tickling hands flattened on Harry’s stomach, giving him balance as he inched up and over Harry’s leg. He straddled Harry’s thighs and leaned over him, their breath clouding in hot clouds between them. Louis had every intent of continuing to tickle Harry, but once he was back on him, looking back into the face of his first serious crush-- aged four years and now in the biting cold of winter-- he couldn’t go back to pretending.

Louis’ hands splayed out and pushed up to Harry’s chest, his hand resting over his two swallow tattoos. Harry was frozen beneath him, chest heaving and face flushed pink all over again. He looked up at Louis with sinful loyalty. His hands stayed hanging loosely on Louis’ hips, no longer attempting to push the boy away. It would have been too easy to kiss Harry then. Louis could bend down and capture Harry’s lips, seal his parted lips together and promise Harry his whole future. Louis could finally taste the sweet green apple that had been running over his chin and through his mind for four years. He could complicate his entire life in one, thoughtless second.

The air was cutting, snow hanging in the air but never forming. It wasn’t in the forecast.

“Louis,” Harry said, feeling in his fingers resurging and pressing against Louis’ hips. Louis slipped back, trying to distance himself from Harry’s hips and the lingering dreams Louis had had about the future memories that could lie there. They sat frozen, unable to really commit to acknowledging what was happening. They were on the precipice of something new, exciting, and _fucking stupid_.

Luckily, the quiet hum of the nighttime became a literal hum as Harry’s phone began to vibrate under him.

“S-Sorry.” Louis made a motion to stand but Harry’s hand stayed firm.

“No. That’s just my alarm.” Harry said quietly. “Happy Christmas.”

Louis let himself move further back and sit on Harry’s shins, his hands now resting on Harry’s knees. “Happy Christmas, Harry.”

Louis had gotten his wish after all.

“Birthday was shit, but Christmas is already turning out pretty well.” Harry said, smirking. He pushed himself upright to be able to look at Louis. Both their eyes never wandered elsewhere.

“Yeah. Not too bad.” Louis nodded, grinning. “You should probably be heading back though, shouldn’t you?”

“I told you, Casper and I are giving each other space.” Harry said, placing his hands over Louis’. “I have no one else to belong to.” Harry’s fingers wrapped around Louis’ hands, fingers pressing against his palms. “Want to come back to my room? I know Benson doesn’t have heat.”

Louis didn’t realize his wish would backfire so quickly. “I-I think I better go back to mine.”

“What?” Harry laughed. “Oh Louis, come on. Nothing’s going to happen. We both aren’t like that.” It was true; Louis could never expect Harry to be unfaithful to Casper, and Louis had to respect Harry’s trust within him to not cross lines.

“I know.” Louis said. “But, we’re good right now. And I want to go to sleep with it _staying_ this good. I don’t want anything to change or happen-- or anyone to walk in while we’re sharing a blanket.”

“That’s fair.” Harry muttered. He let Louis stand before clambering to his own two feet. “Well, call me if you need anything, okay? I can have blankets and hot tea over before you even hang up.”

“My emergency contact.” Louis held his arms out to Harry and they slotted back together easily. Harry’s arms immediately looped low around his back and Louis folded his arms tightly around Harry’s shoulders. They nestled their chins in the other’s neck, finding their place against the other naturally and without shifting or bumping. They had gotten far too good at it. “Good night, Harry.”

“Good night, Louis. Thank you for the wonderful Christmas morning.” He kissed Louis’ cheek as he pulled away, patting the sides of Louis’ face affectionately. “I’m glad we’re back.”

“Me too.”

Louis kicked up his skateboard and gripped the wheel bar as he and Harry emerged from the stonewall, headed for their separate dorms. Harry’s was straight across the way, where Liam was undoubtedly dead asleep in his own bed, while Louis’ was up campus a bit more. It was all paved though, giving Louis an excuse to try out his new gift, and maybe impress Harry a bit while he still had his undivided attention. Louis dropped his board down the minute they approached a sidewalk, letting himself step onto the moving board easily and waving to Harry as he slowly inched past. Harry lifted a hand and wished him yet another good night before Louis pushed his foot down harshly and sent himself speeding off to his room.

Louis was exhausted, but he wasn’t eager to sleep. His dreams were about to get a lot more vivid.

* * *

**Monday. 25 December.**

Louis was sprawled across a couch in the Student Center. He had his legs stretched across it as he held a book up over his face. It was some music history book Niall had recommended for the past two years, and Louis realized he had no other entertainment on Christmas.

Earlier, he and his family had a shared phone call-- in their proper time zone that time around-- giving all their love and affection through a speaker and across an ocean. Louis listened to Phoebe read from one of her new chapter books, and pretended to be surprised that Lottie had gotten exactly what Louis had suggested for her. Their voices were wonderful to hear, but he didn’t miss home that morning. He might had been alone and left with his entire empty day ahead of him, but he was no longer homesick. Go figure.

After hanging up with his family-- an attempt that took four different goodbyes and nine “love you”s-- Louis texted the boys. Niall and Liam got the usual holiday greetings, and assurance of his own recovered mood as promised. Liam text back a return of the greeting and his plans to drive up to Delaware and see some family. Niall text back the greeting with far more exclamation points, a well wish for the rest of his day, and a helpful reminder of his loaned music history book to cure his boredom.

While digging out the book, Louis text Harry the repeated holiday greeting and an overly casual inquiry of his day’s plans. Louis wasn’t hopeful they’d see each other again that day, but if there was a chance, Louis wasn’t going to let nerves get in the way. Harry text back almost immediately, their rhythm back:

_Up and out already. Have to go to church this morning for Christmas mass_

_Since I definitely didn’t go last night_

Louis typed back quickly, tucking the dusty book under his arm:

 _I definitely don’t think God condones chain smoking and near hypothermia_.

_Hope you have a good time kneeling for three hours_

_I mean_

_Take that however you want_

Harry’s response was fast, his phone having most likely been sitting in his hands while he sat in a pew. Harry was sitting in God’s house sending texts to someone that was one more moment of weakness away from making his confessional _very_ awkward.

_I’d rather kneel for half an hour and three of something else than three looking at the same old man._

Louis snorted aloud, covering his mouth as he tried to slip his jacket on. He didn’t have the control to put their conversation on hold long enough to put his arm through the sleeve. His fingers hovered over the keys, mind racing and every possible snarky comeback hot on his fingertips. Louis could change the mood of the text too easily. It was too tempting. He put the phone down and slipped his jacket on, putting the book back under his arm before texting Harry back.

_Jesus Christ, Styles._

_Although I guess that’s the point._

Their conversation stopped after Harry sent a picture of his feet resting on the kneeling bench running along the floor. The photo was meant to be focused on the middle finger posed to the camera in front of the worn Bible on the back of the pew in front of him, but Louis was distracted by nearly everything else as he grabbed his birthday gift and walked out of his room and toward the Student Center.

He could see Harry was wearing tight black slacks, the fabric running taut around his thighs as they framed the bottom of the shot. They were tight while Harry was simply sitting. Louis couldn’t imagine them when Harry kneeled, body poised tight in concentration, eyes closed and lips muttering a prayer. It felt sacrilegious, imagining the slow twitch of Harry’s pink lips as he prayed, hands pressed together and fingers gently beading the rosary between them, but Louis allowed it to distract him as he got down to the lobby. He skated across campus in a haze, wandering his way through the cold back to the Student Center. He barely got through the door when the warm, artificial heating swaddled him up and eased him onto a long, yellow suede couch. He laid there for the entire morning, trickling into the afternoon and trying not to let his mind wander anywhere but music history.

Nothing was open on campus naturally, not even the coffee cart. By three, Louis was starting to get unavoidably hungry, but didn’t want to walk somewhere in town alone. The words on the page were starting to slip right past him, none of it taking an interest with him anymore. He rested the book on his face and prayed it would just sink into him.

Maybe he could bother Harry to get food with him. An impromptu dinner never hurt anyone.

“Louis?” A voice asked, suddenly accompanied by hurrying footsteps toward him. “Louis Tomlinson? I-Is that you under there?”

“Guilty.” Louis said, picking up a bookend to peek at the man beside him. Fuck. Liam had been right; Danny got hot. “Oh, Danny! Hi!” Louis shoved the book back and scrambled to sit upright.

“Hey, it’s good to see you. I- I almost didn’t recognize you.” Louis’ face was hidden under a book. All Danny was assessing was Louis’ body, and maybe the wrist tattoo poking out from his sleeves; he’d take the compliment.

“Me neither.” Louis admitted. “Y-You look great. I mean, what happened to the glasses?” Half the appeal to Danny was he originally wore the same exact frames as Harry sophomore year. They both had a style change since then.

“Lasik, actually.” Danny said, shrugging his shoulders. Louis found his eyes dragging over them as he moved. They had broadened since they were sophomores. His biceps also flexed against the fabric of his sweater as he crossed his arms over his chest. That never used to happen. Louis swallowed slowly, dragging his gaze back to Danny’s eyes. “Got tired of forgetting my glasses everywhere.”

“I should really suggest that to a friend of mine.” Louis said. Harry forgetting his glasses was what landed them all in such a tight fucking spot in the first place. If _only_ Harry had remembered them, or just corrected his eyesight in the first place. Louis would buy him prescriptionless glasses to keep Harry looking endearing and devilish behind tortoiseshell frame, and conveniently out of Casper’s arms.

“How have you been?” Danny sat down beside Louis slowly, waiting for the rejection.

“Good. You?” Louis said. “Heard you changed majors? Computer science?”

“Yeah, I did. Decided to go for it.” Danny nodded, a radiating confidence filling his smile. “Did Liam tell you?”

“He told me he ran into you a bit ago, yeah.”

“How is everyone-- the boys, I mean?” Danny said.

“Can’t complain. Everyone’s getting through.” Everyone was getting boyfriends and finding love.

“And Harry?” Danny asked pointedly. Yeah, him too, fucker. “You guys ever just get it over with?” He nudged Louis’ arm and slapped his thigh playfully.

Louis wasn’t surprised his ex-boyfriend had guessed it all along. “Uh, actually no. That didn’t work out.” Louis tried not to sound disappointed. He knew it would’ve ended in disaster if he had leaned into Harry’s lips or let his hands press any lower the night before. It didn’t work out for the better.

“Oh.” Danny, by comparison, sounded far too pleased. “That’s a shame.”

“Yeah.” Louis sighed. “But, he’s happy. He’s got a good boyfriend. Made peace with it, so to speak.”

“Are you sure?” He squinted at Louis suspiciously. Louis shrugged. They were friends the way they used to be, intimate and nonchalant, but it didn’t mean it made every lasting feeling stop and bide its time. Mourning was healthy, but it also stung. Or it kept Louis up all hours of the night, writhing around on his mattress.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“I’m glad to hear.” Danny smiled and reached a hand over to squeeze Louis’. He never remembered his touch being so firm, so warm. So welcomed. “What are your plans today?”

“Uh, nothing.” Louis confessed. “You? Anything tonight?”

“No, Chanukah was last week. Probably gonna do the usual-- Chinese and a movie.” Danny said. His hand still hadn’t moved. “You want in?”

“I-I would love that.” Louis laughed, one strange tension leaving his shoulders as another coiled in his stomach. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. We can get something to watch in my apartment. A Christmas night in.” His tone was innocent, but the grip on Louis’ hand was loosening, his fingers gently brushing Louis’ leg instead. “Is that alright with you?”

“Yeah-- I mean, definitely. That sounds like a great night.” Louis could feel the resistance, the heavy weight of _Harry_ sinking in his stomach. He pushed it further down. Friends didn’t stop other friends from having hookups or suggestive dinners in. They were just friends; Harry would be excited for him.

Louis could only imagine his reaction when he eventually told Harry in the coming week.

“Do you want to go now?” Danny asked, his pink lips stretching into a smirk. “My roommate’s not around.”

“We better get going then. I don’t like sharing my food.” Louis said. He knew a thing or two about flirting-- he didn’t need lessons from Harry. In fact, without the fear of screwing things up, there was a certain freedom in saying whatever the hell he wanted. Including shit like _that_.

Louis wasn’t sure he’d be able to wait until the morning to tell Harry. They’d probably both be laughing at Louis’ strange flirtatious persona in the early hours of the next morning over another cigarette and maybe a beer.

Danny lived only a block off campus. As they walked, both of them constantly tried to match the speed of the other and not seem too eager. Their smalltalk was minimal, their every sentence turning into an excuse to look at the other. Once in his building, they ran up the two flights of stairs to Danny’s apartment, barely getting in the door before they were clambering for each other’s clothes. They collapsed together onto Danny’s couch, hands and mouths greedy.

Louis couldn’t remember much of anything, his vision going and words dying in short gasps of air. Danny was a great distraction. His hands were frantic and fast, refusing to let Louis catch his breath as he moved down his body. He forgot what it was like to be intimate with someone, to feel vulnerable and breakable-- and have the other person _not_ be his best friend. The situation was obviously unlike anything he had ever had with Harry, but the typical fear accompanying openness didn’t dissolve like it did with Harry; it just helped Louis leave his body and focus on the touch-- hot, slick, and firm-- and nothing else.

Louis came to on the dining table, blinking his eyes back down from where they rolled back in his head. They shared a bubble of laughter, neither of them truly prepared to have the sight of the other so openly theirs to take in, inch by inch. Despite the original invitation, Louis left before they even got dinner. Danny looked disappointed but also seemed to understand that the date had gone in reverse order. It finally met up with their previous dates two years ago. They had finally checked every box.

Louis lit a cigarette before he even stepped out onto the street. He was sore and stiff, but his stomach was in even worse knots. He had had a great time-- definitely something he’d want to do again sometime-- but Louis couldn’t quite swallow the heaviness that came with the vulnerability. It typically never bothered him, but that’s when it was only with Harry.

Danny had been so charming and Louis had felt so sure, felt like he could use the push toward moving on, but Louis was beginning to realize just how little he knew himself.

Louis smoked two whole cigarettes just thinking about how it would be to be vulnerable with Harry like that, sweating and sighing and completely wasted on the other’s warm mouth wrapped around--

The skate home was far too long; Louis was walking to the wrong room and sleeping in an empty bed. It felt worse that way. He thought about going back to Danny’s to have something to ease the twisting in his stomach, but he knew it would be no use. The only cure was already sharing a bed with someone, hands probably tightly in his beloved’s hair and whispering a sweet prayer for dear life as he was roughly pulled closer. Louis would have to ask God for peace in his own prayer.

He was always going to be Harry’s boy, but their beds were never the same. They were no longer sharing the same sides of themselves with each other. Now Casper and Danny knew a strange side to them both. Louis wondered if he and Harry would recognize the timid and vulnerable parts of each other if they ever got the chance.

Louis was only able to fall asleep with the fading hope that he and Harry already knew those sides to each other, they just needed to see it for themselves.

That should have been his birthday wish. He wasted it after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (who knew Christmas was this dramatic? here's to a better new year in ch 2)


	2. Auld Lang Syne

**Tuesday. 26 December.**

Louis had no intention of waking before eleven, exhausted and tightly cocooned in his warm blankets. His phone though, was quick to remind him he had friends and Christmas formalities to answer. Two were from Niall from the night before, one was his mother an hour before, and two were from Harry just then. For Harry to be up that early, he either had a night similar to Louis-- or the complete opposite.

_Hey, Love!!_

_How was your Christmas?_

Oh, Harry. Asking the most involved question at eight in the morning.

 _You free?_ Louis text back, already swinging his feet out of bed to start getting ready. His back cracked and his legs wobbled as he stood. He added _that_ to his rolling list of recap details.

_Uh oh. What did you do?_

_Are you free??_ Louis answered.

 _L O U I S._ Harry’s text hovered on his screen silently, much like his open gawking mouth, before words surfaced again. _I just came back from getting my tea. We’re sharing it and you’re telling me everything_.

 _Already on my way_. Louis grinned to himself. They were already slotting back together. Maybe Danny could get a second chance after all.

 _You better be running._ Harry text back to Louis as he stepped into the hallway, locking the door behind him.

Louis did as he was told. He lightly jogged down the flights of stairs, floor of his lobby, across the courtyard, and up to the third floor of Harry’s building. He knocked, trying to catch his breath and appear collected.

“What the fuck kind of good morning text was that?” Harry laughed, grabbing Louis’ hand and pulling him inside as the door was still being opened. Louis moved quickly to avoid a concussion.

“I had to tell you in person.” Louis said, stumbling and sitting on Harry’s bed. “This isn’t really a text conversation.”

“Lay it on me.” Harry said, clapping his hands together. He jumped up and sat on his bed next to Louis. He crossed his legs and rested his hands on his knees, eyebrows lifted in expectation. “I’m dying over here.”

“You know Danny, right?” Louis asked slowly, placing his own hands on his knees. Harry grunted and nodded.

“Unfortunately. I am familiar.”

“How _well_ do you know Danny?” Louis said, dragging his words out.

“Uh, I don’t know.” Harry recoiled from Louis’ suggestive tone. “I don’t know him biblically if that’s what you’re asking, fucker.”

“Oh, well. I know _you_ don’t...” Louis muttered, biting his lip. Harry looked at Louis, blinking once, twice, three times before his mouth dropped open, gasping.

“NO!”

“I didn’t say anything.” Louis laughed, swatting away Harry’s hands as they grabbed his legs. “I merely asked if you _knew him_.”

“You pulled Danny Childs!” Harry cried, slapping his arm. “Oh my _god_ . Tell me everything. I need to know about all of it. How did this fucking _happen_ ? Since when do you pick up men on _Christmas_?”

“It was a nice gift, I have to say.” Louis teased, biting his tongue as he grinned.

“Yeah?” Harry said, lifting his eyebrows. For a moment, all the tension and complication melted away and they were two ridiculously immature teenagers again. It helped. Afterwards, having to leave the familiar closeness and confront the change in their friendship would hurt, but in that moment it helped. “Was it?”

“Oh, definitely.” Louis felt a blush creep up his neck. “I have… little to no complaints.”

“So you have one?” Harry asked, leaning forward. He was gripping Louis’ leg, shaking it as if the answers would fall like an apple from a tree. “Get on with it!”

“I uh, I don’t know.” Louis said with a laugh. Obviously, there was the issue of it not being the person he wanted, of the vulnerability feeling heavy in Louis’ stomach the entire time. But he couldn’t admit that to Harry. There was no subtle way to say Louis thought about his best friend while being fucked on an ex-boyfriend’s dining table. There was just no way.

“You know. I see it on your face. What? What did he do?” Harry began giggling, slapping Louis’ legs playfully. “Go on!”

“I, um, I would just like to…” Louis sighed and shook his head. He was never embarrassed in front of Harry. “To be less sore.” Harry’s mouth dropped open. He was speechless for a few minutes, going between gaping silence and short, incredulous laughs.

“You’re kidding.”

“Do we lie to each other?” Louis asked, leaning his elbows on Harry’s arms. Their faces were considerably closer than before, but Louis didn’t want to give the appearance he noticed. “That’s my complaint. Take it or leave it.”

“Oh no, we’re taking it. We’re taking it and talking about it.” Harry said, leaning closer. He lowered his voice. “So, what’d you do?”

“Pervert.”

“Um, _best friend_.” Harry corrected with a tisk. “I get to ask this.”

“I never ask you about Casper!”

“Boyfriends are different. I’m never going to look Danny in the eye _ever again_. I get to know how he dirty talks.” Harry whispered, sticking out his tongue. “He does, doesn’t he?”

“Uh, no.” Louis was sweating. His blush was burning him up under the collar. “We were supposed to have dinner but… that didn’t go as planned.”

“Obviously.” Harry snorted. “That was not as appetizing.”

“But, I mean,” Louis bit his lip and lifted his eyebrows, sorting through his words. “I mean, I did end up at the dining table, one way or another…”

“Oh my _god_!” Harry laughed, shaking him again. “I can’t believe it. Louis Tomlinson leaving the bedroom-- this is monumental! We have to celebrate, get a drink!”

“Hey, fuck off. Keep your voice down.” Louis hushed. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Was it good?” Harry asked. Louis glared at him. “So that’s a yes.”

“I can’t believe I told you that.” Louis felt unnecessarily exposed, like he was stretched out over the table again. It hadn’t bothered him at the time, but his memory with Danny felt far too uncomfortable when compared to the green eyes staring him down then. There was an obvious preference; Louis learned he couldn’t settle in the worst way possible.

“No no! This is good! I’m supporting this!” Harry nodded with a grin. “Best friends want to hear about things like this!” They were back to being best friends. Louis knew they were trying, but he could feel the lines blurring. Louis wanted to tell Harry everything, but for a more selfish gain than just talking through it with a friend.

“I don’t think I should tell you any more.” Louis muttered, scrunching his nose. “I think I’ve said too much.”

“Definitely not!” Harry countered. “This is just getting good--”

“Harry!” The door swung open behind them. Harry turned his head but didn’t let go of Louis.

“Casper. What’s wrong?” The greeting was short but concerned. Harry was reserving any disdain for when it was deserved. They clearly hadn’t spoken since Louis’ birthday.

“You wouldn’t believe the people I ran into trying to come over here.” Casper grumbled, coming in and shouldering his jacket off. Louis understood then why Harry was up so early.

“It’s nine in the morning.” Harry said flatly. “Who could you have possibly run into, Casper?”

“Everyone. People thinking they remember me from class, dates, whatever, even your blond friend Nei-Niall! They came out of the woodwork this morning. I wanted to come over and talk and work through shit but now I’m just… I’m tired, Harry. I can’t talk this through anymore.”

“Okay.” Harry said plainly. “What do you want me to do with this information?”

“I’m saying, why don’t we get to the part where we, ya know, make up. Maybe more than once.” Casper said, waving toward him. The joke landed poorly. Mostly because neither of them knew if it _was_ a joke.

“Uh,” Harry blinked and looked at Louis, trying to make Casper acknowledge him. And realize the blatant make up sex he was apparently about to throw Louis out for. “Maybe later, Casper. We’re talking right now.”

“Would _you_ like to stay?” Casper asked with edge. “Since we apparently always have to have one of Harry’s friends present for a fight.” Louis shook his head.

“I would not like to be a part of this.” Not part of their reconciliation. Not part of their fight; feeling like the cause was enough.

“No, you’re not, but you’re also not leaving.” Harry said. He still hadn’t let go of him. “Casper, you’ll wait. I’m talking to Louis right now.”

“I don’t want to fight with you right now, Harry. Can’t we just.. make up, please.” Casper said. He wasn’t quite begging so much as insisting he get Harry to meet him halfway, without any of the work. Louis was suddenly not interested in being the kind of best friends that shared everything if this was the information he’d have to sit through.

“No. Not right now. I just woke up, I’m not even showered or dressed or even remotely into making up-- _or out_ \-- with you right now.” Harry said firmly. He turned back to Louis. Best friends really did share everything. “Go on, Love, what were you saying? You had a nice time right?”

“Yeah.” Louis nodded. “But, I’m not now. So. I’m gonna leave.”

“No. Don’t listen to him.” Harry whispered, squeezing Louis’ hand. “He’s just… impatient. Don’t leave for him. You’re my boy, I’m always here for you.”

He spoke delicately. The words were soft, practically to the touch, but twisted Louis’ stomach into an irreversible knot. Harry meant it but still had his other boy standing behind him.

“I’m going.” Louis slid to the end of the bed and placed his feet on the floor.

“Louis. Stay, please.” Harry said, grabbing his arm. “Come on.”

“I can tell when I’m not wanted.” He gently pulled Harry’s fingers off his arm before walking away. He tried not to slam the door behind him, but found he had no control over himself. It was the only way he’d know it was closed and knew he was hidden. He leaned his back up against it as he sighed, body caving inward.

It was starting to get too difficult. They were dancing around their feelings and acting like best friends, when a main part of being close for them was being using their friendship to disguise their true feelings. Now that their feelings were out in the open, watching Casper fight with Harry-- watching him have _and_ mistreat something Louis dreamt of having-- was unbearable.

It was too early to bother Liam with his night before and sudden roller coaster morning. As much as he was the one Louis knew would slap him out of his own pity, he had been driving to and from Delaware the day before. He also probably didn’t want to hear about him hooking up with Danny. Louis could tell Liam that he _did_ hook up with him, but not really the things that made his stomach sink instead of twist. The things he had dreamed about that made real life far more intimidating.

Someone was possibly coming to fix Louis’ dorm building heat that day, so his room wouldn’t be unbearable for too much longer. He could go back and spend some time with his thoughts. Definitely.

He could sit alone in the deafening silence and not hear his own cyclical repeating of Casper and Harry’s last fight unfolding before him. He could sit by himself and not count every way he saw Caper mistreating the heart Louis so desperately wanted to love all himself. Louis could definitely sit in his bed, both hands by his sides and above the covers, all day. He wouldn’t even think about for a second the possibility of meddling--

No. Louis couldn’t. He told himself he wouldn’t. It wasn’t his place.

Louis would have to go somewhere, at least for a few hours. He thought of bothering Niall, but also realized that would probably include bothering Zayn as well. He knew that could also have its benefits in terms of distractions, but in terms of getting Louis out of his self-pity, between the two of them, neither were particularly harsh-- or at least, Zayn didn’t know Louis enough to be.

Louis volleyed between the ideas before deciding to go upstairs and have someone give it to him straight. Literally.

Even though it was only a few floors, Louis took his time climbing the stairs, even sitting in the floor lounge for a bit, before he couldn’t handle the desperate silence much longer. It was about ten in the morning; Liam should’ve been awake. Louis knocked gingerly on the door, not wanting to scare him out of his slumber.

“Yeah?” Liam asked through the door. “Who is it?”

“It’s me.” Louis answered. His accent was enough to give him away without a name; a small benefit.

“It’s open.” Liam said.

“Since when did you start sleeping with your door unlocked?” Louis said firstly, slowly peeking inside Liam’s room.

“Since I knew that eventually, after that party, you’d be by early in the morning.” Liam said from his bed. He was still wrapped in his blankets, pulling them closer to himself as he moved back and made room for Louis to sit with him. “What’s wrong?”

Louis took off his shoes, stepping out of them as he walked over to Liam’s bed. He hoisted himself up and sat by Liam’s waist, leaning back and resting his arms on Liam’s body. Liam’s room was delightfully warm, but Louis still preferred laying on someone in below freezing temperatures, cigarette in hand.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.” Liam said, eyes closed. “You haven’t even eaten a breakfast and you’re churned up. What happened.”

“I was with Casper and Harry this morning.” Louis said. “And of course, they fought.”

“Okay.” Liam said. He tugged on the blanket under Louis, bringing it under his chin. “So what’s the problem?”

“It’s so weird seeing it. I feel like I should step in, pull Harry aside and--”

“Don’t do that.” Liam said quickly, grabbing Louis’ hand. His eyes were wide open and staring at Louis. “You aren't stepping in anywhere.”

“What?” Louis laughed incredulously, expecting Liam to ramble off topic, revealing he was actually dreaming. There was no way any of his friends actually thought the way Casper spoke to Harry was normal or acceptable. “You think I shouldn’t say anything to Harry?”

“No.”

“And why the fuck not?”

Liam sighed and pushed himself up in bed, sitting with Louis. “Because whatever doubts you’re having, Harry’s had a thousand times over. And having them come from you isn’t going to help anyone.” He said. “You can’t.”

“But when they fight--”

“When they do.” Liam cut in. “They aren’t _always_ fighting. We don’t know that. This is the first we’ve heard of him in three weeks. Obviously they’ve been going well before, Louis. Introducing boyfriends to friends-- especially us-- is a lot. Don’t meddle.”

Louis scoffed and stared at Liam. “I can’t believe you’re taking Casper’s side.”

“I’m taking Harry’s side.” Liam countered.

“How’d you figure that?” Louis demanded. He tried not to raise his voice but instead found himself grinding his teeth.

“He made a decision. Respect it, Louis.” Liam said, his tone sharp. Louis felt it knick him, like a paper cut.

“You don’t understand! We had a talk after the party-- it’s _different_ now, Liam.” Louis said.

“You have to let him go!” Liam yelled in an outburst. Louis felt it slice him deep, air hissing out of his lungs like a stream of blood. “I don’t care if he said he still loves you, Louis, you aren’t his boyfriend! You have to stop trying to put a wedge where it doesn’t belong. It’s not fair to Harry. Or yourself.”

Louis couldn’t be angry. It was what he was what he went there to hear. “You’re right.”

“You can’t break them up, Louis. You know that.” He said. Louis wanted to argue, but truthfully it had been a plan ruminating somewhere in the back of his mind. “Harry can make decisions all on his own, and your broken heart shouldn’t be the one coming in to start calling the shots.”

Louis pulled his legs up to his chest and laid down on the bed. “You’re right.” He said. “You’re absolutely right.”

“I’m sorry--”

“No, I can’t start picking fights for them. T-That’s not going to help Harry.” Louis sighed. “I can wait.”

“No, you’re not waiting, Louis.” Liam said firmly, lying back down. “You have to be done. You can’t be waiting for anything. He didn’t choose you. That’s it. End of story.”

Louis felt a flare in his chest, a burst of warmth spreading down to this feet. “But, yesterday, Harry said that--”

“Louis,” Liam sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You have to be the bigger person. No matter _what_ Harry said, you have to see that his relationship with Casper is saying a whole lot more.”

“And what’s that?”

“You broke his heart one too many times, man.” Liam’s face fell as he spoke. He found no joy in slicing Louis open, but it had to be done. At least he’d bleed out lying down, comfortable in a warm bed with arms folded over his chest ready for burial. “He’s still healing from the last time you turned him down.”

“But they’re always fighting.” Louis argued, heat still flushing him. “How is that healing? How is that _helping_?”

“At least he’s got a boyfriend to fight with, Louis.” Liam said, raising his eyebrows in an obnoxious attempt to win the argument.

“No. You’re wrong.” Louis pushed himself up, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. “I can’t just stand by and let Harry be pushed around--”

“Where do you see him being pushed around?” Liam cried, pushing his blankets back.

“You saw him crying after Casper gave him shit. You _saw that_. You texted me he was crying, that he was completely fucking hysterical.”

“I never said that.”

“Niall did. He told me how fucking broken up he was! And you don’t think he’s unhappy? Are you fucking joking? Are you honestly fucking joking?” Louis started shoving his feet back into his shoes, getting ready to take the stairs all the way back down to Harry.

“That’s not what I’m saying! Would you just listen?” Liam grabbed Louis’ arm. Louis tried to tug away but Liam was too firm and too nervous about Louis looking to leave. “I didn’t leave the soccer team, and leave those people shitting on his day, just so you can keep staying with your invasive habits and fuck with his heart.”

“That was your choice.” Louis countered. “That’s not on me.”

“You have to stop acting like you have a chance!”

“I’M TRYING!” Louis snapped, pushing Liam back harshly. He stumbled into the bed, unharmed but shocked. “Fuck, I’m trying. But, every time he smiles at me or h-he touches me it’s like I’m eighteen again. I’m cornered and I’m scared, in the States all alone. I’m sitting at that orientation, scared to speak to anyone because when I open my mouth, they’ll all know I flew “ _across the pond_ ” or some _shit_.

“I flew over alone-- I had too many young sisters to ask my mom to take off or get someone to watch them. I was all alone. Then, this guy walks in, ten minutes late, and charms the whole damn group with those dimples and bright smile. Then he speaks and I feel my heart drop. He’s there alone too and we flock to each other before we even know it… It was instant, Liam. Instant. _How_ can I let that go?”

“I know, Louis. But you have to try. You can’t keep this up.” Liam sighed, stepping back toward him. He was shirtless and still barely awake, but he wrapped Louis in his arms before he had much chance to object. “It’s hurting the two of you.”

“You weren’t there for our first year, Liam. You don’t remember what it was like for me. Harry was the only one I could depend on. It wasn’t just infatuation back then, it was _dependency_ . It was innocent and _nothing_ . Needing each other was just something we thought was from being so far from home. Then that first summer,” Louis swallowed slowly, thankfully his head was hidden against Liam’s shoulder. “That first summer we realized it was different. We had been in love that whole time. But then we waited and we lost our nerve-- sorry. _I_ lost my nerve.” Louis sighed and let himself rest against Liam’s chest.

It really was over. Harry had spared Louis the answer of whether or not he loved Casper, and the reason was the ache ringing in Louis’ chest. If he had said yes, it’d be over definitively. At that moment, they were both hanging onto the fact they were headed toward a new chance, but in reality they had started on their own paths entirely. Harry had turned down a path Louis could no longer follow, only possibly run beside and hope to keep up. Harry couldn’t tell Louis he loved him either because he was still the faithful Catholic gentleman raised to honor commitments-- even if they were made with a man that was a point of contention between his friends. The very same reason Louis loved Harry were the ones making it hard to be close with him. They learned distance hurt them, but it was the only way Louis thought he could just fuck everything to hell.

If only Casper would do it for him.

“I’m starving.” Louis muttered, pushing away from Liam. He shoved the heels of his feet into his shoes, wiggling to adjust them. “Think Zayn’s home?”

“Home cooking?” Liam laughed gently, the pity already showing on his face. “I’m sure he is. He’s an early riser so I’m sure he’s got something going for breakfast.”

Louis inhaled slowly, unsure of what he could begin doing with himself. He had to start living as a whole, rather than a half in search of the other. He’d have to be okay never getting his other half, his happy ending. Instead, another man got Louis’ story; was going to get the beautiful husband, the charming meeting story, the undeniable attraction, the frantic hands and swollen pink lips, the cute memories only they’d share. Casper was getting everything and wasn’t even aware of the possibility of other people loving Harry. He was so arrogant, he was unable to appreciate how lucky he was. If Harry had had two perfectly fine, brand new contacts that day, they never would have met.

There was nothing extraordinary about Casper to make his path destined to cross with Harry’s. It was a freak accident while Louis had been painstakingly plotting a controlled crash for years. That bastard was going to get away with everything. And Louis just had to say goodbye without even knowing what it was he was losing.

“I need to be in a home.” Louis muttered, turning for the door. “I-I’ll text you later.”

“Okay. I was going to start planning New Year’s later. Want to help or too much distracting?” Liam offered, walking Louis to his door. “Or you can just come back here when you want. I can make my roommate’s bed while you’re gone.”

“I should be okay.” Louis said. “And I don’t care about what you plan. It doesn’t matter to me.” He’d go and he’d hate it and he’d make nice. He had no choice.

“Okay.” Liam stood in the doorway as Louis slipped back into the hall. “You sure you’ll be okay? Sorry if I overstepped.”

“I just want to sleep in a warm house. One nap. I’ll be okay.” Louis lied. “See ya.”

Louis forewent the stairs and took the elevator back down to the lobby, lessening his chances of running into any form of Harry or Casper, physical or verbal. Once at floor level, Louis dug into his pocket for his lighter and pack of smokes. He could only find his phone. Louis had left the near-empty pack from Christmas Eve sitting on his desk. He had been elated in his own way since his late night with Harry, smoking and escapist jitters were in the back of his mind. Of course, elation always crashed the hardest, gathering speed every inch it plummeted to the pit of Louis’ stomach.

In the blustery wind, Louis’ nose began to run and his eyes watered. It was convenient, truthfully. Walking the few blocks off campus looking beaten by the elements was far better than looking destroyed by heartbreak. His fingers curled in his pockets, locking around a rolled piece of loose paper. The familiar pressure between his pointer and middle finger was enough to offset their trembling. What Louis would do to have a cigarette in his hands, and a beautiful boy resting his head in his lap.

Zayn’s apartment building wasn’t locked, letting Louis walk in as if he belonged. No one he passed at the mailboxes or on the stairs cast a second glance in his direction. He knocked on Zayn’s door shortly.

“Zayn, it’s Louis.” He called, knocking in a pattern between polite and frantic. “Zayn?”

The door opened under Louis’ knuckles. Zayn was only in a pair of pajama pants, but appeared to be fully awake. “Good morning?”

“Can I come in?” Louis asked. “I know it’s early and I should have called or something but-- can I just come in?”

“S-Sure.” Zayn stepped back and let him inside. He waved an arm out to guide him into the cluttered post-Christmas mess in his foyer. “Everything alright?”

“I just, I don’t know. I need someone to talk me out of doing something really fucking stupid.” Louis announced, slipping his jacket off and throwing it at a chair.

“You came to the right place.” Zayn said with a laugh. “I mean, I like to think so.”

“Liam just gave me the worst reality check I’ve ever had and I’m fucking exhausted and I miss my best friend. So yeah, this is the right place.” Louis said, swallowing the knot rising in his throat. As he began kicking off his shoes, another voice came from the hallway.

“Hey, Zayn? Who was--” Niall stepped out of the bedroom in a track sweatshirt last seen on Zayn. He took two steps toward the living area and froze, Louis looking back at him without embarrassment or mercy. “Hey, Louis. I was just, uh-- I’m here because--”

“Niall, I don’t care what or who you’re doing, man. It’s none of my business.” Louis said as he tossed his shoes aside. “I just needed some company. And maybe like, a sandwich.”

Zayn laughed first, continuing toward the kitchen. “Okay. Let’s feed you first, man. It’ll make you feel better.”

“I hope so. I’m running out of things that do that.” Louis sighed, sitting down at the counter. “Oh, and I need a fucking cigarette.”

Louis accepted food and a smoke and sat on Zayn’s fire escape for the rest of his afternoon. He stared out into the overcast and dared the sky to open up, to release the snow chilling him and Harry to the bone two nights prior. He challenged the sky open up and freeze the earth; open up and swallow Louis whole.

He gripped the cigarette tightly, but could still feel Harry under his fingertips. Louis wondered how long it’d be before he’d have to cut them off to relieve himself from the purgatory of the painfully high, but not holy, road.

He gave himself a week.

* * *

**Thursday. 28 December.**

The heat finally turned back on in Louis’ room at nine that morning. The accidentally cranked setting woke Louis up with sweltering artificial heat. His shirt was soaked and his blankets were kicked to the floor in the middle of the night. Laundry wasn’t on his agenda for any day during the break, but he no longer had a choice. If he was going to leave his room to go to the basement, he figured he should leave to get food as well.

The dining halls had reopened since the holidays, meaning Louis didn’t have to go beyond sweats and a clean-ish shirt to leave his room. Any other students there had seen people looking a lot worse and with far better excuses. Louis stripped his bed, and himself, before making a laundry pile to be attended to after a half-balanced breakfast.

Since leaving Zayn’s apartment, stomach full and spirits slightly lifted, Louis went back to his dorm and slept. Whether tired, exhausted, or avoiding an echo of Liam’s words, Louis slept. His phone was in the pocket of his jacket slung over his desk chair. It died Tuesday evening, but Louis didn’t bother plugging it in until that morning before stepping out to eat. He was sure there were messages to answer and worried voicemails to hear, but he wasn’t ready to bury his pain yet. Louis wasn’t ready to admit he wasn’t over it either. If he directly answered any of those texts or phone calls, he’d have to put on a smile and an exclamation point to convince his friends he was letting Harry go. Eventually, he’d have to convince himself too. Eventually, Louis would have to be okay with the unsettling dissonance ringing in his bones when he was with any other man. The discomfort he felt with Danny was only bearable in short spurts. Maybe swallowing his own lie would settle the churning in his stomach when he touched Danny, hands unable to find familiar ground between his shoulders or along his back.

All the food made for the students looked delicious, but the moment Louis filled his plate and sat down, his stomach soured. He prodded the serving of eggs with his fork, the pan-cooked yellow mass maintaining its shape as it tumbled over the plate. They turned cold not soon after Louis stood up to get himself tea, hoping moving would liven his appetite. His banana and bagel sat untouched on the plate. The banana was slightly unripe and the bagel wasn’t even toasted. Louis pushed the plate back and held his white ceramic mug close. The water was far too hot and seared his tongue, but at least he was eager to drink it.

“‘Morning, sunshine.”

Louis was happy he hadn’t eaten; he would’ve thrown everything up.

“Hey, Harry.” Louis said, placing his mug down. Harry walked up to Louis’ table with his typical messenger bag and large sketchpad. His shirt was worn and ripping along the collar, splotches of color decorating the white fabric. His backup glasses were resting on his face and his hair was in a ponytail, swinging as he leaned over to place his belongings down. Louis focused all his energy on smiling. He barely caught Harry speaking.

“--wrong with it?”

“Huh?” Louis mumbled, blinking to his senses. “No. I’m okay.”

“No, not you. The food. Is there something wrong with it? You aren’t touching it, Love.” Harry pointed at the full breakfast now resting in the middle of the table. “Although, I guess I should be asking about you too.”

“I’m just not hungry.” Louis said, shrugging. He never considered Harry being first he’d have to convince of his well being. “You want it?”

“I’m not going to eat your food. You should. You look exhausted.” Harry situated his bag upright in a chair before sitting himself in the one to Louis’ left. “Have you _slept_?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Louis said. Once next to him, the circles under Harry’s eyes were not so easily disguised by his glasses. Louis pulled the plate back toward him, grabbing the banana and holding it out to Harry.

“Look, we don’t have to talk about Tuesday.” Harry said. He took the banana from Louis slowly, rolling it between his two hands. “We can pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Already in the process.” Louis muttered. He was erasing the past two days, then working his way through the past four years. Louis wondered how often Harry used the tactic to get through days with Casper-- or him.

“Thanks, Love.” Harry smiled graciously at Louis. He cracked the top of the banana and unpeeled it half way. Louis looked away as he began eating it, turning to his bagel and beginning to pick the raisins out of it. “Are you okay?” Louis turned to see Harry, cheek full of banana.

“Yeah.” Louis nodded. “Fine.”

“Louis,” Harry reached out and grabbed Louis’ arm. He quickly swallowed his bite. “I’m sorry about the other night. If I came on too strong. I-I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s fine.” Louis shook his head, trying to convince Harry it wasn’t a problem. It really wasn’t.

“No. It wasn’t right. That was… horrifically shitty of me. I shouldn’t have admitted half the things I said.” Harry continued. He was backpedaling. There was something about Louis’ birthday that he knew he shouldn’t have done. Harry had felt it too.

They were both letting go.

“It’s not a problem.” Louis took pity on Harry. Louis at least had nothing in his life to lose. Harry was trying to hold together two different sides of himself. He didn’t need Louis placing more doubts in his head. “What’s shared between best friends is never repeated. It’s going to the grave with me.” _I’m your boy_ , Louis thought, making sure he shut his mouth before he spoke a single word of his feelings.

“Good to know.” Harry lifted his hand from Louis’ arm and brought it back to peeling his fruit. “Thanks, baby.”

Louis blinked at Harry, heart leaping into his throat. He was going to throw up anyway.

“I-I’m gonna stop talking.” Harry breathed, eyes wide and head shaking. “I’m gonna eat this and stop fucking talking.”

Louis barely dug a hole for his buried feelings before he was brushing the dust off. It wasn’t over, and now Louis knew Harry was just as aware. They were waiting for something to give, but neither one wanted to be the responsible catalyst. The cheater or the homewrecker. Picking either poison wouldn’t have been an isolated incident. Both would be changed, shame rotting a hole in their stomach and making the capacity for guilt endless.

Louis picked off a piece of the bagel and chewed it slowly. He let the silence sit between them. For once, it had nothing to say.

They replaced their conversation with other noise. Louis continued to clinking his fork against his plate as he stared at his food and Harry contributed the crumpling and shifting of paper as he opened his sketchbook. Eventually, Louis’ plate was completely inedible and cold. He picked what his stomach could handle from the bagel and downed the rest of his cold tea. Harry was silent beside him.

“Hey guys!” Liam shattered their silence, shouting from nearly across the room. “How are we this morning?”

“Peachy.” Louis gritted, folding his arms across his chest. “I’ve had a great few days.”

“How about you-- Harry?” Liam placed his plate down on the table softly as he stopped. Louis turned to see Harry asleep, head hanging and hand loosely gripping his pencil. It made the silence feel far less cruel. “Harry!” Liam clapped his hands together and Harry jerked awake.

“What? What happened? Sorry.” He wiped his face and yawned. His other hand moved across his page and smudged his work. “Fuck.”

“You okay?” Liam sat down on the other side of Harry’s art supplies. His plate was full and he sported a far healthier appetite than either Louis or Harry.

“Yeah, just tired.” Harry waved it off as he began erasing his accident.

“Up last night? Still at it with Casper?” Liam asked, casting a look across Harry to Louis. His gaze was steady, challenging Louis to let him take the conversation where no one wanted it to go.

“No. No, we’re done fighting. Worked it all out.” Harry said. Louis wasn’t sure which part was a lie.

“ _Oh_. That’s why you’re tired.” Liam smirked, leaning back in his chair. It was harmless banter but Louis felt his face run hot. His pointer and middle fingers pressed together, praying a cigarette would appear between them.

“Among other things.” Harry muttered.

“Well, lay off for a while,” Liam teased. “You guys have to make it to midnight on Sunday. I text the guys and decided on a place finally. Casper is more than welcome to  join.” He had a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. Liam looked past Harry, whose eyes were laser-focused on his paper, and directly at Louis. “Got to have someone to kiss at midnight.” Liam was going to force Louis to confront the impossibility of his relationship with Harry over his morning cuppa.

“ _Bastard_.” Louis mouthed across the table.

“I’ll ask him.” Harry said, finally lifting his head. Liam smile dropped to a polite resting expression. “I’m not sure what he’s doing. For New Year’s, I mean.”

“Great. It’ll be great.” Liam stilled looked at Louis. He tried to convince him his heart wouldn’t be broken with a bite of toast in his mouth. “It’ll be nice to see Casper again.”

Truthfully, for Louis, it’d be like seeing him for the first time. Never had he laid eyes on him without thinking, even for a moment, that he was in direct competition with Louis. It’d be difficult to look at his dark features and mistakenly calm eyes and not want to deck him in the teeth. Maybe his second first impression would go a lot smoother. Maybe they’d all be friends: Harry, Louis, and Casper’s headstone.

Louis knew a great open field in Holmes Chapel to lay him to rest. Plenty of sun, beautiful open sky, and more than enough memories to push him deep beneath the surface.

“I really should get going.” Harry muttered, folding his sketchbook over quickly. He hadn’t fixed the smeared graphite. “I really should be at the church.”

“Church?” Louis echoed, pushing his chair back. He helped hoist Harry’s bag off the chair and balance it on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I was in yesterday and Father Anderson heard I could draw and asked me to come in today.” Harry nodded. “Not sure what he wants.”

Liam spoke through a full mouth to encourage the new interest in Harry’s skill. Louis kept twisting Harry’s bag strap, laying it smoothly over his shoulder. He couldn’t move past the first part of Harry’s sentence.

“What were you doing at church yesterday?” Louis said.

“I’m Catholic.” Harry laughed, furrowing his eyebrows in amusement. “It’s kind of part of the deal.”

“You never go off holidays.” Louis ran his hand over the smoothed strap slowly. The canvas rubbed his fingers roughly. “What happened?”

“Nothing _happened_.” Harry laughed, but Louis could hear the scoff beneath it. His lie couldn’t decide how to cover up his discomfort. “I just wanted to go.”

“You never _want_ to go to church.” Louis countered, smoothing the strap again. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine!” Harry said, grabbing Louis’ hand. He squeezed it tightly as he lowered it to Louis’ side. “It’s fine, ba-” Harry released Louis’ hand as if it had burned him. “Fine. It’s fine. I have to go.” Harry banged his knee on his chair as he turned around, his sketchbook banging against his legs and nearly tripping him as well. He didn’t stop and kept marching for the door, silence trailing behind him and echoing his own mistake: _Baby_.

“What’s his problem?” Liam asked, swallowing his food. “Never seen him go to church on a Thursday morning before.”

“Neither have I.”

“Eh, can’t be too bad.” Liam said, nonchalant but not dismissive. “I’m sure he’s okay.”

Seeking God only pointed to one thing in Louis’ mind: crisis. Worlds collapsing into other worldly chaos and needing the help of a higher power, a strong force to answer to. Harry had looked exhausted. At least one day without restful sleep kind of exhausted. Louis didn’t want to think it was his fault; thinking he’d started Harry on a spiral caused by his harmlessly intentional flirting. He wasn’t that persuasive or that inappropriate to stir Harry up in such a way. They had been close, hovered over the danger of a kiss, but Louis was sure it couldn’t have been that unsettling to Harry. Nothing had truly changed over the past four years. There was only Casper. Which meant that while things with Louis were going uneventfully well, things with Casper might have begun to tip onto catasphrophic.

Louis had planted landmines over the past four years. Timid secrets turned volatile. Instead of handing Harry a map and allowing him to navigate out of harm's way, Louis stood in the center and dared Harry to step forward. He knew Harry would. He was going to kill them both.

* * *

**Sunday. 31 December.**

New Year’s Eve wasn’t a holiday Louis could honestly say he consistently remembered. It always passed in a blur, not necessarily from the drinking, but from the constant haze of spending a party sitting next to Harry for a holiday _mostly_ about kissing. Just once, Louis wanted a year where he wasn’t thinking, wasn’t fretting about the opportunity ticking away.

This wasn’t going to be that year.

Louis walked to the voted bar of choice with Niall and Zayn. It was a local bar with a small enough empty space between tables to call a dance floor. It was the first year they’d all been allowed in a bar in America, but they still planned on keeping all their traditions.

“You’re it this year.” Niall told Zayn, linking only their pinky fingers. “Last year it was Louis, before that Liam, before him was me.”

“What?” Zayn asked, shaking his head at Niall. He’d have to get his adoring look of confusion off his face if they wanted to fool anyone at the bar. They had grown comfortable being open around Louis-- especially after he laid across both of their laps and pathetically moped while they both watched TV in the week prior.

“Every year, Harry dances with one of us. First year, it was me. Second year, and arguably the best year, it was Liam. Third, Louis. This year we thought we’d have to repeat or let him dance alone-- but now we have you!”

“You’re making me dance with another man?” Zayn asked, saying the sentence slowly. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I also let you fake date one of my friends.” Niall said, quirking an eyebrow. “I know you’re not going anywhere.” Louis was sure there was an answered text from Harry responsible for Niall’s cockiness. He bit his lip and said nothing.

“I don’t even like dancing.” Zayn said as they arrived at the bar. He reached for the door first, holding it open. “If I break anything it’s gonna be your fault.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Of course.” Niall laughed, gently patting the side of his face. “I’ll take full responsibility.”

Once inside, Louis could barely find Harry and Liam. Not necessarily because there were too many people, but because everyone was dressed in the same color scheme of black, silver, or gold. It was like staring into a starry sky-- and then he spotted the sun. Harry was leaning on the bar, laughing and joking with the bartender. He held up two fingers, gently dancing them back and forth playfully. He was wearing a sheer black shirt decorated with gold embellishment, barely buttoned. It contrasted loudly with Liam’s simple black shirt and slightly _less_ black tie. Harry had let his hair go that night, hanging on his shoulders and framing his smile just as well as his dimples were. Louis wished he had done something more than slick his hair back and put on a white button down, noncommittally cuffing the sleeves to his elbows. Although, with Harry nearby and looking the way he was, no one was going to be looking anywhere else.

Liam spotted them as they weaved through the crowds. He had secured a standing table in the back, Niall and Zayn following him back while Louis slipped his way to the bar. Harry didn’t notice Louis as he walked up and leaned his back on the edge of the bar. Harry was too busy laughing and charming the bartenders-- all three trying to wait on him hand and foot. Harry seemed to be enjoying the attention, tucking his hair behind his ear and telling them he was celebrating with his boyfriends that night. The disappointment on their faces was upsetting, but Louis was happy to be part of the chosen group.

“Hey, would you stop flirting with the bartender and get me a drink?” Louis said over the music, leaning closer to Harry. He nudged Harry’s hip with his own. Louis wasn’t sure what had come over him, but he just knew Liam would not approve.

“Hey! You’re here!” Harry cried, changing his focus onto Louis. It was an honor. “You look great!” He held his arms out for Louis. He didn’t need a verbal invitation and stepped in to hug Harry tightly, his hands sliding over the sheer fabric and nearly giving his fingers the impression they were grazing Harry’s bare skin.

“So do you.” Louis tried to keep it as playful as possible. He tried not to let his hands cup the curve of Harry’s hips too tightly as he pulled away. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen this shirt before.”

“There’s a reason.” Harry laughed, his head tilting slightly to the side and revealing he’d had at least one drink so far. “Can you imagine me in any of my seminars looking like I had just raided a brothel?”

“It’s not brothel level.” Louis said, running his hand over a sleeve. It was short, only going halfway down Harry’s bicep. It gave him the excuse to run his hand down until stopping to rest by his elbow. “Escort, maybe.”

“High class, I see.”

“Sitting pretty.” Louis reminded him with a wink.

“With all my nightwalking money, let me get you that drink.” Harry teased, turning back to the bar. The three bartenders snapped to attention at his gaze. “Hey, Sugar, can I have two Cosmos?”

“Cosmos?” Louis repeated. “ _Sugar_? How bonked are you right now?”

“Oh shut it, let me be as ridiculous as I want.” Harry hushed, swatting at Louis’ arm. “And, yes, a Cosmo. I’m going to be dancing with a man that’s _not_ my boyfriend, I’m wearing glitter, and all of my nipples are out. I think that calls for a Cosmo.”

“You’re the only man I’d ever drink something _pink_ out of a martini glass for.” Louis told him with a pursed look. “Hope you know that.”

“Don’t I.” Harry laughed, winking. “Gotta get you loosened up my way.”

Initially, Louis had thought that getting himself too drunk would end badly for all parties involved, but with Harry already flirting comfortably-- and noncommittally-- while Louis was sober meant that there was no hope for the night. He’d be gone whether or not there was a drink in his hand.

“Is Casper coming?” Louis asked, still trying to weigh his decision to drink.

“No. I’m alone tonight. We decided to go with our own friends for tonight.” Harry said.

“Congratulations, free man.” Louis said, clapping Harry on the back.

Finally, there’d be no boyfriend loitering in the background of every glance, of every wistful stare at Harry’s dimpled smile and crinkled nose. Louis could pretend all he wanted; the rest of the room wouldn’t know. From the outside, he could play the appearance of Harry’s boyfriend. Guys would avoid buying drinks for either of them because they’d look like they belonged together. Louis would get to glance toward other men, all jealous and in love with Harry’s fluid dance moves and charming laugh, and get to meet their eyes with a smirk. It was an easy role to play, but he’d always be the understudy.

“Here you go, boys.” The bartender smiled at them as he placed down the cocktail napkins and glasses. He seemed to note Louis’ bland appearance compared to Harry, a smirk growing on his face as he looked between the two of them. “Enjoy yourselves.”

“Oh we will.” Harry answered, looking at Louis as well.

“I can’t believe you.” Louis muttered, taking the glass from the bar. Harry pressed his tongue between his teeth as he put money down and grabbed his own glass.

“Don’t worry, I’ll still buy you a pint later.” Harry said. He grabbed Louis’ hand and lead him back to the table. Harry’s fingers loosely slotted between Louis, even for the short distance. Women stepped aside and men looked curiously at them. Being a spectacle was Harry’s forte. “Oh, and before I forget, tell me when you go out for a smoke-- I have something I want to tell you!” Harry’s face lit up excitedly before releasing Louis’ hand and breaking through the crowd to their table.

Zayn and Niall were standing at opposite ends of the table, Liam standing between them and completely oblivious. Zayn spotted Louis and looked relieved, stepping over to them first. Louis could imagine he wanted more buffer between his boyfriend and best friend. Harry hugged Zayn first, the two of them unaware of the knowledge of the other, then went to Niall, who seemed tense and horrifically aware of what everyone at the table did and didn’t know. He was spinning and peeling the label off of Liam’s beer as they all settled in around the table. Louis stood next to Zayn but beside Harry. What did Harry have to tell him that he couldn’t tell him there, all their friends as witnesses?

“What is that?” Liam laughed, pointing at their glasses. “And why do I feel like it’s going to knock you on your ass.”

“Want to try some?” Louis offered, holding the glass out. All three shook their heads while Harry began sipping from his own. They looked at him as if he was tasting poison. It reminded Louis of Casper, nose turned at Harry for indulging in a drink that was served with a lime on the rim rather than being in a indiscriminate brown bottle.

“Oh shit, that’s strong.” Harry laughed, coughing. He wiped his bottom lip with his thumb as he tried to blink the grimace from his face. Louis looked down at his own glass, near translucent pink liquid reeking of vodka with just a hint of lime juice. He swirled it around, trying to decide if he really wanted to loosen his tongue that quickly.  He could already feel his disdain for Casper flare up in his chest, even without him around. “Oh, don’t be afraid of it. Christ, it’s just a little heavy handed.”

Louis lifted the glass toward Harry. “To being loud.” Louis toasted, looking Harry over quickly. Casper would have hated his outfit, all the way down to his heeled boots clacking against the floor every time he shuffled his feet. But while out with them, Harry would hear no complaints.

Louis was pointing out a flaw of Casper’s using his own fucking words. Understudies never wrote the script but sometimes could play it a whole lot better.

“To being loud.” He repeated, clinking their glasses. The drink was a glorified vodka-cranberry. The vodka tasted dry in Louis’ mouth and churned his stomach after two sips. The night’s memories were going to run short if he drank much faster.

It was half past ten, and the music was getting louder while the lights slowly dimmed. It wasn’t dark, but the harsh awareness of bright lights faded into the feigned safety of shadows. Louis admittedly didn’t know any of the music being played, but Harry sure did. He was singing in between steady sips of his drink, unbothered by the strength. Liam was still sipping from his bottle and Zayn had acquired a rum and coke in between Louis’ third and fourth sip. Niall pretended he had never really had a rum and coke “professionally” made and shared a few sips from Zayn’s glass.

Harry was nearing the bottom of his Cosmo when a new song came on, his face lighting up. He reached around Louis for Zayn’s arm. He wasn’t any more drunk than he was before, but there was a certain giddiness to him that Louis hadn’t seen in a long time, easily before Thanksgiving break.

“Zayn, you got a boyfriend?” He asked, tongue firmly planted in cheek.

“N-No.” Zayn answered, shaking his head. He squinted at Harry, trusting his question rather than being skeptical of it. “No, I don’t.”

“Well, you do tonight. Come on.” He tugged Zayn’s arm and began pulling him toward the dance floor. Zayn’s words were lost in the crowd and music, but the panic on his face was easy to find.

“Have fun!” Niall called after him. He reached over and took Zayn’s rum and coke for himself. “Poor bastard.”

“Hey, that’s _your--_ ” Louis started, his tongue already slipping. “That’s _your_ friend.”

“And that’s _your_ best friend. Dancing with another man.” Liam teased, tipping his bottle back.

“Fine by me.” Louis shrugged. It didn’t matter if Harry was with Zayn, the bartenders, or any of the men slowly stopping to stare at him. Anything was better than Casper. He played the part all wrong.

In fact, seeing Harry dancing with Zayn was a far better show than Louis expected. It was like being asleep standing up. Louis knew it was all really happening, but it felt distant and far too good to be true. Louis thought he’d slipped off to sleep and let his mischievously active imagination treat him to a wonderful dream. He had a full view as Harry started moving his hips to the bouncing beat. He held Zayn’s hands and tried to get him to move, but the boy was stiff in front of him, trying to find his place in the gyrating crowd. Louis would have found it comical if he wasn’t fixated by Zayn’s dancing partner. Harry’s eyes were closed and his head was tilted back, laughing up into the ceiling. He kept pulling Zayn closer, closer until their legs were slotted together and they could just about breathe without touching the other. Zayn was gaining his footing with the music and with Harry, finally breaking into a laugh of his own as he started following Harry’s lead. It was intimate but harmless; Harry had the charmful ability of making every inch someone spent away from him seem like a loss.

Louis downed the rest of his Cosmo as he watched Zayn roll his hips with Harry’s, the two of them giggling. Niall ordered himself an Old Fashioned and pretended he didn’t see it. Louis wanted to look away too, but it was hypnotizing. Louis was watching one of his own dreams from across the room. Harry was laughing and joyful, running his hands through his hair and down his body with the music. He knew every pair of eyes were on him and he was preening in the attention. Men around him were no use against his magnetism, flocking around him and Zayn as one song faded to another. Harry let them crowd behind him and with his hips, but never touching him. He was a complete tease. He knew exactly what he was doing to them.

But he had no idea what it was doing to Louis.

“I knew going to a bar was going to be interesting.” Liam laughed. “Harry seems to be having a good time.”

“Yeah, he does.” Louis agreed, blinking and confirming his reality. “I need another drink.”

“I’ll grab you another while I’m up there.” Niall offered, stepping away and heading to the bar. His stride was tense and his shoulders were pushed too far back to be casual. Being only able to stand and watch Zayn dance was having a far different effect on Niall. It bordered on jealousy but stayed firmly in restrained affection.

“Me too!” Liam called after Niall. He emptied his bottle and placed it at the edge of the table to be taken by the circling waitress. “How’s it feel?”

“What? Being drunk?” Louis asked, words already growing thick in his mouth. “It’s alright.”

“No, asshole. Watching _this_.” Liam nodded his head back to the dancefloor. Harry had his hands firmly tangled in his own hair, his hips rolling forward obscenely to the music. He had an open-mouth smile on his face, but he knew exactly what he was doing to every set of eyes watching him. “I’m an objective third-party member and even I think that’s kinda hot.”

“Stop talking.” Louis said, glaring at Liam. “You don’t get to bloody tell me to get over Harry and then tell me him dance-floor-fucking your TA friend is hot. That’s not how this works.”

“I-I was just saying. Jesus.” Liam held his hands up in surrender, pressing his lips together. “Thought you were doing better.”

“I am.” Louis said quickly. “It’s complicated.”

“Obviously.”

“Alright, drinks everyone.” Niall said, appearing with a pint in one hand, an Old Fashioned in the other, and a beer bottle tucked into his arm. “Louis, I got you something less… _strong_ this time.”

“You can say ‘gay’, it’s alright.” Louis teased, taking it from Niall carefully. “I was almost drinking straight--uh, _completely--_ pink vodka. It’s kind of gay.” Louis leaned over the table to laugh, getting himself close enough for Niall to see his hidden smile and secret laughter. “You get it, yeah?”

“I’m not the one drinking out of a martini glass.” Niall teased, his whispering undetected by Liam.

“I’m not the one who brought their summer fling.” Louis said lamely. Niall shook his head and leaned back, trying to divert Liam from feeling the need to hear things for himself. Louis wasn’t sharp enough to lie anymore.

The three boys went back to their drinks and continued watching Harry and Zayn at a distance. Louis sipped his pint steadily, flagging down a waitress for a glass of water as well to prevent his New Year’s Day being spent hanging over a toilet. Niall sipped his drink cooly, able to watch Zayn with an entertained smile. Louis envied him, if only for a moment; it still wasn’t him dancing with his own date. The table and dancefloor seemed to separate those with courage and those without.

By eleven, Niall was swirling his ice around the bottom of his glass and watching Zayn spin Harry around. An older song had come on at the strike of the last hour before the New Year. It left Harry singing along and playfully asking Zayn _“don’t you want me_ ”? The chorus was picked up by the rest of the crowd, an infectious joy rippling all the way to their table. Louis couldn’t help humming along, and also couldn’t help noticing Niall trying not to dance beside Liam.

“Do you want to dance?” Louis asked, shouting across the table.

“I--I don’t know.” Niall shook his head, looking at Liam with uncertainty. “You want to join?”

“Maybe in a bit.” Liam said, waving them off. “Don’t wait for me.”

“Come on.” Louis encouraged, holding his hand out. “I’ve got you.” He’d act as a buffer for him and Zayn. Four men all standing and dancing together made the shared affection of two far less obvious from a distance.

“Are you sure about this?” Niall asked, following Louis around the table.

“Don’t worry. Just dance.” Louis said, pulling him around as they approached Zayn and Harry. Niall stumbled as tried to keep up with Louis’ swift motion, almost falling into Zayn. Niall braced himself against Zayn’s arm, grabbing him around the bicep and forearm. Zayn grabbed his waist to keep both of them from stumbling to the ground, the surprise on his face turning to delight as he looked at Niall.

“Glad you could join us.” Harry said, winking at the two of them. “He’s all yours.”

“Thanks.” Niall timidly switched places with Harry and immediately finding a rhythm with Zayn.

It was sweet. Louis watched their hands try and find ways of bumping into the other without loitering; moving away like the desired warmth of their skin was far too hot. Louis was happy to be able to get them close enough to mutter the words “ _don’t you want me_ ” in all sincerity. But Louis was distraught that it also meant he’d be close enough to Harry to have the words “ _you think you’ve changed your mind, you better change it back or we will both be sorry_ ” become a plea beyond innocent lip syncing.

Louis was already regretting his choice of bringing Niall to the dance floor. With he and Zayn getting their time together through the veiled privacy of crowded bodies, Louis was left to either dance awkwardly alone or with Harry. He tried to act like he didn’t notice Harry beside him, singing every goddamn word of the song like he wasn’t living a worse version of the song at that moment. Louis stuck to dancing by himself, unsure of his movements but not completely uncoordinated. He’d be able to stage off any awkward confrontation by keeping his eyes focused firmly on his own feet, trying to block out all the gyrating hips that entered his peripheral vision.

His alcohol started to slow the room around him as the song flipped to another club tune. Bodies stepped closer together and Louis could feel the music and thick heat of the room swarm him. The heat was lively, practically breathing down his neck. Louis lifted his head, room spinning from the headrush, and tried to find a break in the crowd to cool down. Before he could even take a step forward, a hand was pulling him back. It pressed firm against his stomach, the connected arm snaking around his waist from behind him. He counted the faces around him: one, two, three, and a fourth walking over. The hand on him didn’t have a single ring or cross tattoo-- it wasn’t the right one.

“Hey, hands off!” Louis said, speaking almost directly to the hand. “I don’t know you.”

“You looked lonely.” Louis craned his neck to see the man behind him, and made sure to scowl at his sly grin. “Sure you don’t want a partner.”

“I’m sure.” Louis said firmly, stepping away from him. His back bumped into someone’s shoulder, but he didn’t turn to apologize. Another hand grabbed his arm. The ridges of their rings pressed against his skin.

“Hey, Louis! There you are!” Harry said, pulling on his shoulder and already turning him around. “Thought you went back to the table.” He placed his arms loosely over Louis’ shoulders, bringing their bodies closer together, and farther from the stranger behind him. “Come dance with me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, I don’t like dancing alone.”

Louis had danced with Harry before at their Halloween parties and during parties in grad students’ houses, but they had never done it with so much caution. Their hips were rolling and swaying to the same sides and in the same time, but each inch of separation was measured. They didn’t know how close to be but knew what distance was too far away. Louis didn’t have an idea of where to put his hands, letting them hang by his sides uselessly.

Harry was so open in front of him. Harry’s shirt was hiked up, exposing his fern tattoos again and taunting Louis with the memory of the secret summer job paycheck that went toward paying for them. Harry had laid down on the chair, jeans pulled down to mid-hip and his underwear lowered to just above censorable exposure. Louis was his ride, sitting beside him for the four hours it took, holding Harry’s hand despite the pain never bothering him. The healed tattoos peaked out along his waistline, beneath the shirt that was barely bothering to cover any of his other tattoos. Louis could track every trip to the tattoo parlor down Harry’s arm-- still resting on Louis shoulder-- all the way to his chest, looking at the butterfly and swallows added to his chest the winter before, going along with Louis when he got his own chest piece. They were the guiltiest tattoo to admire; it gave Louis an excuse to drag his eyes over every inch of Harry’s exposed chest, all in the name of art. Unfortunately, in the dimming club, the light was selective, highlighting only certain parts of Harry’s body. One of which was chosen to be the gold cross bouncing between the two swallows.

“W-What did the church say?” Louis asked. His hand finally came alive and pawed at the cross, trying to hold it between his thumb and forefinger.

“What?” Harry asked, leaning his ear closer to Louis. Louis tucked Harry’s hair behind his ear for him and repeated himself. “I heard you, I just don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Your art. Right?” Louis said, making the motion with his cross like he was drawing. He wanted to make it clear he had no interest in hearing what Father Anderson or God had to say about the trouble Louis had been causing for him.

“Oh! Oh, yeah!” Harry nodded. “I wanted to tell you later but-- they hired me!”

“You’re joining the church?”

“No! God, no. They commissioned me for a little mural in their youth center!” Harry laughed, shaking his head. His arms slid back, his hands able to hold the sides of the Louis’ face. “I’m not leaving you to marry God. No fucking way.”

“Leave me?” Louis repeated. He placed his hands over Harry’s, careful to move them from over his ears, just in case. “What about me?” They were shouting at each other over the music, their bodies giving up dancing in favor of handing the other their full attention.

“I’d never leave you like that.” Harry said, still holding Louis’ face. “There are so many rules with church shit-- I could never.”

“Me?” Louis asked a second time. He was giving Harry a fair chance.

“Yes!” Harry cried, nodding quickly. “What’s the matter?”

Louis could hear Liam’s words ringing in his ears. He could also imagine the new ones that’d be clattering around in his head for the following days. Louis spoke anyway.

“Just me.” Louis repeated, no longer unsure. “What about Casper? You wouldn’t care about leaving him?”

Guilt consumed Harry’s eyes like a strong tide. He blinked quickly, trying to sober himself up. Louis definitely had more to drink but he followed Harry’s words faster than Harry did. For a brief moment, in Harry’s world of excitement and promising recognition for his talent, Casper didn’t exist. He fell away the moment Louis entered into his vision, great news spilling from Harry’s lips. Louis didn’t want to be pleased. He was replacing someone rather than stepping in. He was amplifying the dissonance pulsing in Harry’s head, breaking his heart without even being the one it was in love with.

“I-I didn’t say that.” Harry said. “I didn’t say that.”

“I-I know. I just… I meant, like,” Louis stumbled. He shrugged excessively as he tried to scrape up a lie. Its clarity was at the bottom of his martini glass. “You think he’d understand? Hypothetically.”

“Oh.” Harry said, blinking twice. They both knew it was a shitty excuse. They both ignored it. “I think he would be.”

“Is he Catholic too?” Louis didn’t care.

“No. He’s Agnostic.” Harry replied, metaphorically getting behind Louis to help push the conversation along. “But he doesn’t really care.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah.” Harry said plainly. His hands were still on Louis’ cheeks, thumbs brushing just under his eyes. “D-Do you want to get back to dancing?”

“Yes.” Louis nodded, suddenly becoming aware of his own mobility. “Yes, please.”

“Here, come closer.” Harry said, arms going back over his shoulders and fingers lacing behind Louis’ neck. Instinctively, Louis’ hands rested on Harry’s waist. The music had lost words-- or at least those Louis could understand-- and had become strictly a beat pounding in Louis’ chest. It was like a heartbeat, primal and urgent. The distance between them didn’t stand a chance.

“Hey. Found you!” Liam placed an arm around their shoulders. Louis’ hands dropped to his sides and Harry’s eyes widened, focusing on Liam’s grin. “What are you up to?”

“Dancing.”

“Need a third?” Liam didn’t wait before wedging himself between them. He faced Louis, his face dropping the moment Harry lost sight of him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Nothing!” Louis hissed. “We’re not doing anything. This is normal for us.” It was, but the sexual tension wasn’t.

“Don’t you dare do anything stupid.” Liam threatened, hand resting on Louis’ chest. “Don’t make me take your drunk ass home.”

“I won’t.” Louis promised, placing his arm over Liam’s shoulder. “He loves Casper.”

Harry loved Casper, but he’d never leave Louis.

* * *

They stopped dancing with half an hour before midnight. Louis was still spinning and he was beginning to overheat. He unbuttoned his shirt an extra button, but still letting Harry take the prize for most exposure.

He snuck outside to grab a cigarette in peace. Louis knew he was supposed to have asked Harry to join him, but Louis took the chance as they all walked back to their table to sneak away. He wasted a good fifteen minutes alone before stepping back inside. His head was light and nearly floating as he took his first clear deep breath. He tucked his hands into his pockets, lighter and pack of cigarettes loosely sitting in them, and walked back to their table. It was like being on display; everyone had seen him earlier with the nameless star of the bar, but there he was: alone and slowly coming down as he crossed the floor. He was the luckiest man in the bar, but Louis knew it was a lie. It felt nice to play pretend, even if the curtain was closing in the next fifteen minutes.

Zayn and Niall were finally standing together at the table as Louis returned. Liam was leaning on Zayn’s one shoulder and speaking intently, explaining the discomfort on both of their faces. Harry was watching them, eyebrows raised and smirk growing on his face. He noticeably seemed to be wobbling on his feet. Either that or Louis was having trouble seeing straight.

“What are they scheming?” Louis asked Harry. He looked over at him immediately, face changing into another bright grin.

“I haven’t the slightest.” He shrugged. Harry looked over Louis’ head to the large countdown. “Hey, we’ve got a few-- come with me to the toilets?” Harry asked, already grabbing Louis’ wrist.

“Uh. What.”

“Don’t want to go alone. Think I’m a bit too drunk.” It was innocent enough. Harry’s grip was tight enough.

“Uh, s-sure. Yes-s.” Louis agreed. He sounded like a snake, his liquor melting his bones and thickening his tongue.

He followed Harry to the back, the appearance of the situation far more suggestive than the actual intent. The bathroom was tucked away in a long hallway, sharpie and pen graffiti covering the walls. Louis told Harry he’d wait outside, leaning against the wall and trying to regain his composure and half his double vision. Louis didn’t have to go himself and figured standing beside Harry at a urinal was going to be more trouble than it was worth.

Harry disappeared behind the door, no one else in the hallway besides a crowd of women slipping by for the other restroom. The pounding music jack-hammered in Louis’ chest, his mind already trying to recreate a visual of Harry, dancing and swaying to the music. He’d been bold and flirty and out in the open and the most beautiful boy Louis never got to have. Louis had only a few spare moments to imagine Harry before the boy himself was stepping out of the bathroom, squeezing past someone in the doorway.

“Hey, ready to go back?” Harry asked, walking up to Louis. He wiped his undried hands against his jeans, palms pressing against his thighs. Harry’s pants were tight around his legs, unable to wrinkle or gather due to the stress of curving around every inch of his thighs, hips, and constantly swaying ass--

“No.” Louis said, grabbing Harry’s arm and yanking him to the back of the hall. “Come with me.” The fire exit provided a small alcove for them, Louis shoving him back against the brick harshly. Harry’s head might of bumped the wall, but Louis didn’t stop to ask. He was already on his knees, pulling on Harry’s belt buckle. Louis pushed up the fabric of Harry’s shirt up with one hand, his hand dragging over his stomach, feeling it tense and contract as he gasped. Harry’s hands intercepted the belt Louis was too eager to undo properly. His long fingers slid the leather through the buckle easily, the small cross tattoo by his thumb teasing him before helping him unbutton his jeans. There was no underwear waistband to be seen as Louis fumbled with Harry’s zipper. The moment Louis tugged it down, harshly and impatiently, Harry would be out for him. With mouth open, hungry, desperate, and unashamed, Louis would take every inch--

“Louis? You okay? Do you need to sit down?” Harry asked, placing a hand on Louis’ shoulder. “You’re staring, Love. Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah.” Louis coughed, blinking away the wet dream materializing in consciousness. “Sorry. Just, thinking about stuff.”

“Like what?” Harry laughed. “You’re too fucking tabled to think about anything.” His giggle rippled through him, causing him to lean over Louis. His arms braced his body against the wall, bracketing Louis on either side.

“You.”

“What?” Harry said, tucking his hair behind his ears.

“Y-You. You’re drunk too!” Louis played it off and shoved Harry back playfully. He had to start controlling his tongue and his body. There was too much liquor and too much on the line. They hadn’t even passed midnight, the golden moment when the chance of a kiss was erased and forever lost.

“Not as badly as you. Who knew all it took was one Cosmo to get you fun?” Harry grabbed Louis’ hands as he stumbled back, pulling him off the wall. “Let’s get you another one.”

“No. No, I really shouldn’t.” Louis tried to disagree but found every rejection bubble out with a laugh. Touching Harry infiltrated every part of his brain that created speech. He could never refuse Harry.

“I can get it for free.” Harry said with a wink. “Watch this.” He grabbed Louis’ hand tightly and began weaving him through the crowd.

Their shoulders bumped into the backs of patrons trying to make their way to the back hallway. Harry didn't stop and got up to the bar with a mischievous grin on his face. He swung Louis around, the two of them resting their hands against the edge of the bar.

“Excuse me?” Harry called, waving down one of the bartenders. He looked delighted to see Harry back and begging for his attention. The chatter in the bar was climbing as the minutes ticked down to midnight. The bartender leaned forward to hear Harry’s flirtatious giggle clearly.

It was impressive, Louis had to admit. All Harry had to do was bat his eyelashes, twirl his hair, laugh at every joke, and two tequila shots were being placed on the table in front of them. Louis knew he was pressing his luck. His vision hadn’t completely separated dream from reality as he salted his hand. If he wasn’t concentrated, he could swear Harry’s hands were fumbling with his belt buckle rather than a salt shaker. With only eight minutes left before midnight, one more shot could be the worse sleeping pill; getting him to fall directly into his dreams, head and hands first.

Harry insisted and they both tipped the shot back. He grinned at Louis around the lime slice, his eyes crinkling and nose flaring as he laughed. Louis sucked his lime and hoped the sourness would sober him. Instead, it only gave him the oral fixation to have Harry’s hollowing cheeks become obscene. He imagined his own were just as bad.

“Hey! You’ve only got a few minutes! Get back over here!” Niall yelled, waving through the crowd. He grabbed Harry his hand and yanked him back toward their table. He was the most sober of the group, Zayn following close behind with a lazy smile on his face. Liam was somewhere between Zayn and Harry. Louis drug behind, no longer fighting the urge to stumble and letting his own drunkenness consume him.

“Wait!” Liam said, pointing between them. At the front of the bar, someone announced the minutes before midnight. Five. “We’re an odd number.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Harry asked, wrapping his arm around Liam’s shoulders. It was only partially to keep from tipping over. “I think we can manage.”

“I’m out.” Louis said, shaking his head. Finally, his words were cooperating with the very small part of his brain not drowning in booze. “I’ll take the bad luck.”

“You can’t do that!” Niall laughed. “We’ll kiss you.” He pointed between himself and Zayn, the rest of the group far too drunk to notice the accidental slip. “I’ll kiss you.”

“No, you really don’t have to do that.” Louis said, shaking his head and sloshing his brain around. “I couldn’t ask you to… to cheat-- I guess.”

“Who says it’s cheating?” Zayn asked, cocking an eyebrow. “I’m right here, aren’t I?” He slapping Louis’ arm with a laugh. He was teasing Louis, but it took him a while to catch up. He grinned at pointed at Zayn with a wobbly hand.

Four.

“I’ve got Harold.” Liam announced, hand bracing against his chest. He covered a swallow and the cross.

“Now wait a minute.” Harry laughed, slapping Liam’s stomach lightly. “I don’t kiss straight men.”

“And why not.” Zayn asked, obviously enjoying the one-sided drunk banter. “You’re outnumbered.”

“It’s in poor taste.” Harry explained, tucking hair behind his ear. “You can’t tease a man with something he can’t have. That’s just cruel.”

“Well, how about a straight man that isn’t your boyfriend.” Liam said. “That like, cancels everything out.”

“Why would a straight man be my boyfriend.” Harry deadpanned, blinking at him.

“Brian Tarr? Freshman year?” Niall smirked.

“Shut up and pick your partner.” Harry laughed, reaching across Liam to shove Niall. He had enough equilibrium to remain balanced. He nudged Harry’s arm in return and nearly sent him to the ground. Louis lunged forward to catch him, one hand gripping his arm and the other grabbing his hip.

Three.

While his reaction time was somewhat impressive, Louis’ balance was struggling to support his own weight let alone keep Harry up. Louis’ hands fumbled with Harry’s waist, grabbing his shirt as they both stumbled. Harry’s hand splayed out and landed on the wall, catching him before he fell much further back. Their momentum stopped and Louis’ vision took a few blinks to recalibrate. It was like waking up in one of his dreams: Louis’ hand grabbed the bottom of Harry’s shirt, leaving his hand to press against his bare stomach for balance and his entire point of contact only six inches from exactly where he had dreamt of being for an embarrassing number of nights.

Two.

Harry stared down at Louis, blinking repeatedly, as if he was waiting for his vision to change too. He looked frightened, knot rising in his throat as he tried to swallow his words.  The silence was terrifying, every word they hadn’t been saying the entire night stumbling from their parted lips. No one else could read their silence and were stuck in the crossfire static. Louis wasn’t sure what he was conveying, he could only hear Harry’s incoherent alarm pouring from his darting eyes and twitching bottom lip.

Harry would never leave Louis. And the way he felt about Louis just couldn’t seem to leave Harry alone either.

Sixty seconds.

“Hey, alright! Everyone up.” Liam said, yanking Louis up by the back of his shirt. “You’ve only got another minute to find someone.”

“I’m okay.” Louis said, his words suddenly finding him. His head was clear despite spinning. “I think I can handle the bad luck.” There wasn’t any left to get.

“Oh shut up and get over here!” Niall sighed, grabbing Louis’ arm and leading him to stand between him and Zayn. “Don’t be such a martyr.”

The minute slipped by in a chorus of shouting. Louis tried not to notice Harry’s distant stare across the table at him, Liam’s hands trying to redirect him to his face as the final seconds ticked down. Louis tried to comfort him, smiling with the least amount of subtlety he had left. He was going to kiss someone other than Casper to ring in his New Year, he was going to be twenty-two in a month, he was the best dressed boy in the bar, and he was still a good person after five drinks and a misplaced hand.

“Happy New Year!” Niall laughed, snapping Louis away from Harry. He grabbed Louis’ face in his hands and pecked him on the lips. It was playful, Niall barely able to keep from laughing as he released Louis’ face. “There. No bad luck.”

“What about you?” Zayn asked, stepping past Louis to loop his arm around Niall’s waist.

“With what privacy?” Niall answered, pushing Zayn away while looking over at Liam.

He and Harry hadn’t kissed yet. Liam was seemingly rethinking his choice with a bubble of laughter every time Harry got close enough. Harry looked over at the three of them with resignation, rolling his eyes. _“Straight men_.” He mouthed.

“You better kiss him before someone else does.” Zayn said, waving them on. Harry turned to Zayn, momentarily alarmed at the potential callout, but noticed the hand braced around Niall’s waist. The desperation clicked even through the fog of his tequila shot.

“Put up, mate. Seriously.” Harry laughed, grabbing Liam finally and kissing him.

In the surprise, Liam screwed his eyes shut and gave Niall and Zayn the privacy to get their own New Year’s kiss. It left Louis standing between his four friends, completely without distraction and fully able to realize how dizzy he was. The walls couldn’t seem to stay a constant distance from him, his depth perception blurring. Louis’ teeth were buzzing and heavy in his mouth, only one tongue in his mouth able to run over them. Louis had felt lonely before, but this felt like an end. Without any eyes looking at him or friend even thinking about him, Louis felt as if he could have stepped away and out of their lives entirely. His own cowardice and inconvenience had landed him his own isolation spot on the most cheerful nights of the year.

* * *

**Monday. 1 January.**

It was tradition that after midnight, they would all fall asleep in a giant mass of blankets, pillows, and bodies on the floor of someone’s dorm. Louis and Harry always shared a blanket, they always acted surprised when they woke up spooning, and they always acted ignorant the following year and did it all again.

Zayn had invited them all back to his apartment, noting with confidence that none of them could correctly use their own dorm keys to get back into their rooms. They all walked back to his home, Niall and Zayn enjoying the romantic walk in the chaotic confettied sidewalk, while Harry and Louis stumbled behind and pretended the other didn’t exist. Liam walked between the two pairs, trying to find which key on his ring would open Zayn’s door. They all only almost fell down the stairs once. Each.

Before Louis could even untie his shoes in the foyer, the living room was being rearranged by the more sober minds and being covered in extra blankets and pillows.

“Alright, everyone. Keep it cool out here, yeah?” Zayn said as he threw the last pillow onto the floor. “I’m going in the other room and don’t want to be cleaning up vomit or… _whatever_ in the morning. Bathroom’s down the hall, kitchen sink is open, trash can is by the door.”

“I’ll keep an eye on them.” Niall said, flopping onto the couch.

“‘Night, boys.” Zayn turned off the living room light and let them all situate themselves in the streetlight streaming in through his window.

Liam took the spot on the floor along the couch, unknowingly making it harder for Niall to sneak off at any point in the night. Louis wasn’t sure where he was supposed to lay, simply sitting down where his legs decided to give way. Harry was already curling himself up in a blanket on the floor beside him when Louis tumbled down. He knew better than to assume he and Harry would share a blanket, or even a moment of eye contact.

Harry was already on his side, facing the corner wall and tucking his knees into his chest. He hadn’t spoken a word since midnight. After their kiss, he released Liam in stunned silence. Everyone laughed, but it took Louis’ fogged mind to notice a near half hour later that Harry hadn’t cracked much more than a smile.

Louis laid his own head down on his beaten pillow, an ocean still sloshing in his head. He grumbled what he thought would be a “good night” but became a string of groans. Liam responded similarly.

“Get some sleep.” Niall answered. “You’re a mess still.”

“Am not.” Louis countered. “Fuck off.”

Niall’s response was lost in a sudden growing distance. Louis’ eyes sank closed and his body felt wonderfully heavy. The tension of the night would finally drift from his shoulders and let him sleep. Maybe with the liquor drowning most conscious thought, he wouldn’t have any dreams. He wouldn’t see that bathroom hallway; wouldn’t see himself kneeling in front of a taken man, shamelessly giving only himself everything he ever wanted. Louis could sleep peacefully. He hadn’t done anything, just like he promised himself. He may have nudged a few lines, but as he laid down on Zayn’s floor, he was still far behind them. Harry was wrapped up in his own blanket, curled up in the silence.

It was a shame though, that doing the right thing meant finally breaking a tradition.

* * *

Despite being in a heavy, near-medicated level slumber, the faint sound of coughing woke Louis in the middle of the night. He pushed himself up, head throbbing as his equilibrium changed. The blanket closest to the wall was bunched up and the nearby pillow was empty. Niall was missing as well, but it seemed less likely Harry was in the main bedroom, accounting for the quiet muttering heard through the nearest walls.

Louis tried to find his bearings and wobbled his way down the hallway to the bathroom. Only a secondary light was on, a thin strip of bleeding across the wood floor and into the hall. He stood in front of the door, pushing it open enough to expose the person inside. Harry didn’t see him at first.

He was kneeling in front of the toilet, elbows resting on the sides and head in his hands. What Louis thought to be coughing was actually dry-heaving caused by hyperventilation. Harry was crying with full-on hysterics, body lurching as he gasped and gagged. He was trying to hold his own hair back, but the awkward angle left the ends of his hair catching in his mouth anyway. It was pathetic to watch, but Louis also knew there was also nothing worse than suffering your worst moments alone in a strange bathroom. Especially if the last time you were in said bathroom, you nearly fist-fought your boyfriend.

“Harry?” Louis whispered, pushing the door the rest of the way in. “Are you okay?” He jumped as Louis walked in, nearly scrambling away. He stayed put as his stomach turned again and sent him coughing up nothing.

“I’m fine.” He said, spitting into the toilet. “I just want to be alone right now.”

“I can’t leave you like this. You’re eating your own hair, Love.” Louis closed the door softly behind himself and sank to his knees beside Harry.

“I don’t have a hair tie.” He said, explaining his uncomfortable and ineffective shoulder-breaking angle.

“Let me help.” Louis said, taking Harry’s gripped-ponytail from him. It was an apology despite not knowing what he had done.

Harry gagged again, his chest spasming as he was choked in a long sob. Louis waited it out, soothing Harry’s back and trying to shush him. He wasn’t sure what he could do to help, but they were best friends. Best friends shared everything with each other, even their worst moments. Recently, _only_ their worst moments.

“What’s going on, Harry?” Louis whispered. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t!” Harry said, hands covering his eyes. “I can’t do it.”

“Hey, no, come on.” Louis soothed Harry by rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades. “You need your best friend. I’m here now. Just as your friend. You can tell me anything.” Louis found his own breaking point in Harry’s. He couldn’t keep pushing against Harry’s relationship with Casper. It was only hurting Harry. “I’m not going to be upset.”

Harry took a deep breath. He spat into the toilet again and cleared his throat. He was at confessional again, on his knees and hands clasped in front of his face. Louis hoped he didn’t think God was watching him. No father ever embarrassed his son by overseeing his lowest point: half-drunk on New Year’s Day with his best friend and avoidant crush.

“D-Did I cheat on Casper?” He asked, resting his forehead on his hands. The words were soft, slipping between Harry’s clenched teeth quickly.

“What? What are you talking about?” Louis said, leaning closer to Harry. He’d have to name a more specific example.

“Liam. I shouldn’t have done that.” Harry said. It frightened Louis that Harry was bent over a toilet vomiting simply thinking about what he and Liam had done that night. Harry was yet to confront any conversation with Louis beyond the ones they had the night of his birthday party. They said they were back to normal and Harry was clinging to it as he clung to the toilet seat. “He’s going to be so mad!”

“Harry! Harry! No, come on.” Louis argued. “You didn’t cheat on him. You didn’t. One kiss on New Year’s does not mean you cheated. You didn’t kiss him for any other reason than to go through the motions, right?”

“Right.” Harry nodded, sniffling.

“And you’re gonna tell him, right? Gonna be honest?”

“Yeah.” Harry said. “It was the only way to get him to not look at Niall.”

“So you took one for the team and kissed a _straight guy_.” Louis laughed. “That’s not punishable, Love. That’s called being a good friend.”

Harry tried to laugh but the sound became lodged in his throat and gagged him. To Louis’ discomfort, a little bit more than thin, clear strings of spit left Harry’s mouth that time around. Louis could feel Harry’s spine arch and his entire body lurch under his hand as he vomited.

“Harry, how much did you have to drink?” Louis asked, watching his stomach turn itself inside out and into the toilet. “You never throw up.”

“I-It’s not that.” He coughed, finally able to catch his breath. He braced his cheek against his arm and exhaled slowly. Louis moved with him, inching closer and letting Harry’s hair hang down his back again.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been acting weird the past few days and then tonight we’re fine-- and then--” Louis stopped. It wasn’t about him. It wasn’t about close, warm bodies or about a misplaced “baby” or about all the ways Louis fantasized about Harry that night. It was about the panic sinking Harry’s heart to his feet and lifting his stomach into his throat. “And I don’t know how to help you without knowing what’s going on. I can’t be a good friend in return.”

Harry hiccupped but thankfully didn’t vomit. “It’s not going well with Casper right now.”

 _Oh fuck._ Both Harry and Louis were a bit too sober for this conversation to be forgotten in a fog of tears and crashing emotions. Louis had engaged the topic and now he had to see it through.

“Sometimes that happens.” Louis said vaguely. He didn’t know anything. What did he know about loving relationships? Although with Casper, there seemed to be some lying involved-- _that_ Louis knew all about.

“He didn’t even want to come tonight! I invited him but he just blew me off! Told me to _leave_ and just _be with my boyfriends_.”

“Oh, Harry.”

“I don’t understand!” He cried, turning to stare at Louis. The tears that welled in his eyes were heavy, able to wobble as he trembled before running down his cheeks. “The minute I introduced him to you guys, all these cracks started forming! We’re one breath from shattering and I don’t know what happened! What did I do?”

Louis hated to think he was the main force causing the broken relationship. It was the truth, but he still hated thinking it. It started with his big mouth contributing to a small squabble over a coat and led to Harry having to unleash his own secrets before he was even ready-- before Casper probably let on he had any of his own. Harry was left exposed and without any reciprocation or loyalty. Without a best friend for support. Louis had continued to make it worse by offering that same support and affection Harry had been in search of since his voicemail in inappropriate spurts, trailing Harry’s heart along when it was already breaking. He was the only thing about to shatter.

Casper was probably just as confused. He met Harry, fumbling and confused, but heart intact. Now, Harry was just as blind and confused but with a weeping heart and unreadable needs dribbling from his lips like juice from that same green apple. Harry had been offered one more bite of their apple at the coffee cart with Zayn, and while Harry refused it, his heart didn’t. The first nail hammered into Louis’ coffin also punctured the first hole in Harry’s heart, allowing the cracks to spiderweb up and nearly make it unsalvageable.

Harry’s instincts had been to keep chasing Louis, and the only time he realized it was when he called him at two in the morning, just trying to find his best friend. His subconscious caught up to his heart and left him searching for that love-- now that he knew it was there in the first place, aching in Louis’ own chest.

It led them to that moment, Harry leaning over the toilet as his stomach tried to empty the butterflies fluttering in it. If Louis was a worse person, he would have kissed Harry then, vomit and all. He would have given Harry’s heart everything it thought it wanted, just to assure him that it wasn’t. Instead, he stayed silent and hoped through the booze Harry would hear everything he needed.

“Do you think it’s going to be alright?” Harry whispered, pressing his hands against his eyes. Louis stayed silent. “Yeah. Me too.”

Harry shifted on his knees, his legs moving out from under him. He sat on the floor with an unmoving fatigue. Louis did the same.

“I think I should go home.” Harry muttered, hand running through his bang and flipping it out of his way. “I don’t have my glasses. I should go.”

“You can’t do that.” Louis said, carefully smoothing down Harry’s hair. “You can’t walk home. No way. Let me get them.”

“What?” Harry wiped his nose with the back of his hand and turned to stare at Louis. Louis couldn’t tell if the gesture was incomprehensible from disbelief or any lasting liquor.

“Give me your keys. I’ll run and get your glasses and something to put your contacts in. Still right by your bed?” Louis said, pushing himself off the floor.

“Well, y-yeah.” Harry nodded. “But you don’t have to do that.”

“Stay here and I’ll be right back.” Louis held his hand out to Harry for his keys before opening the door. “Just, try and feel better.” He stepped out into the hallway and slowly closed the bathroom door back over. The house was still in the quiet phases of consciousness. The floor creaked as Louis tried to sneak back down the hall, each step finding the weak spot on the floorboards.

“Is everything okay?” Niall poked his head out of Zayn’s room. “Feel sick?”

“No. No, it’s Harry.” Louis whispered. He winced as he heard Harry begin coughing again. “He’s a little sick at the moment, but I’m running to his dorm for some things. Watch him for a little, yeah?” He didn’t stop walking away from Niall, trying to get Harry his glasses before he fell back asleep with his contacts in.

“Y-Yeah. Of course.” Niall nodded awkwardly, trying to follow. “I-- Okay.”

“Thanks-- be right back.” Louis waved and grabbed his shoes. He slipped them on once he was out in the hallway, door closed behind him. He stomped into his shoes with his first two steps down the stairs.

Typically, the walk was fifteen minutes. The run was only eight, including crosswalk stops. Louis dodged nearly every fence railing and tree branch as he fumbled through his jog back to Harry’s room. He still wasn’t entirely sober, but he was straining to make it happen. Each step rippled up Louis’ legs, wanting to crumple and return to their wobbly form. He swung around the gatehouse fence and cut through the campus to Harry’s building on a wheezing breath and with trembling hands.

Harry’s dorm was unlocked before Louis even tried the key. Although, there was no one on his floor to raise concern. It was also probably the smartest idea to leave his room unlocked on a night planned to be spent a bit more than tipsy. He pushed the door open with a heavy hand, not caring that it banged against the wall behind it. Louis was too busy covering his eyes from the room’s bright light to notice.

“Oh, fuck. Harold, why the fuck?” He squinted and fumbled for the light switch.

“What are you doing here?”

“ _Fuck!_ ” Louis cried, jumping back and grabbing at his chest. “Casper, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m waiting for Harry.” He said. Louis stop squinting long enough to see Casper sitting in Harry’s bed. Casper’s eyes were wide open, having been awake far before Louis came in. “Where is he?”

“Uh, we’re all at Zayn’s.” Louis said. There was no reason for Louis to be guilty-- at least not in front of Casper. He didn’t know what Louis had done, what he’d been doing since the first day they met. He only saw one of Harry’s friends sneaking into his room in the middle of the night, keys in hand and fear painting his face as white as the walls.

“Is he coming home?”

 _Home_ , like Harry’s definition of home hinged on whether or not Casper was sitting impatient and worried in his bed.

“He’s sick right now.” Louis said, still standing in the doorway. “Just here for a few things.”

“Is he alright?” Casper pushed back the blankets and began getting out of bed. Louis wondered how both Casper and Harry fit on the thin twin provided by the school. They probably had their bodies melded together in the heat of their embrace, arms wrapped around the other and legs tangled. Louis was feeling a little sick too.

“He’s alright. Niall’s with him right now.” Louis nodded, walking inside. “He’ll take good care of him.”

“Niall.” Casper repeated, slowly falling back onto the mattress. He leaned against the wall and pulled the blankets over his legs. He watched Louis open Harry’s side table and grab his glasses, contact caps, and a loose hair tie. Louis pretended he didn’t see the near empty bottle of lube and full box of condoms in the drawer for both his and Casper’s comfort.

“Do you know where he keeps his sleeping sweatshirt-- that big Rourke one?” Louis asked, turning around and staring at the different possible drawers. “It’s his favorite. Niall gave it to him.”

“Right in there.” Casper pointed to the tall dresser, motioning for Louis to go to middle drawer. It was barely folded, Harry most likely having slipped it off and stuffed it back in the drawer before dressing for the night. Louis wondered if Casper had been there, watching him too. His eyes probably tracked Harry around the room as he changed, taking off three different shirts before settling on the one he stunned the bar with. Casper probably had a lasting remark before telling him to leave his own room. Like it was Casper’s home, Harry allowed a vacancy.

“Thanks.”

“They’re good friends, aren’t they?” Casper asked. It was the most genuine Louis had ever heard him sound. For once, it sounded like Casper had no knowledge or control over the answer to his question. The vulnerability was a good look on him, if Louis was being impartial. He looked gentler, eyebrows knitted together and bringing his strong features together pensively. It had to be why Harry loved him.

“Yeah, definitely.” Louis nodded. He rolled the sweatshirt up and tucked it under his arm. “They clicked almost as good as-- uh, good as me and… and--”

“Elliot?” Casper mumbled, biting his lip. Up until then, Louis had forgotten Elliot existed. He had already been replaced by another man Louis would never have.

“Uh, yeah.” Louis agreed. “Sure. Just Like that. Look, I should really get going.” He shoved the drawer closed again and made sure he had everything before half-racing to the door.

“Thank you.” Casper said quietly, lifting a hand to wave.

“Uh, sure thing, I guess? Not a problem.” Louis said quickly, still trying to escape. “See you later.”

“Will you tell him I love him?”

“Yeah yeah sure-- Now, I really should get going.” Louis was going to vomit all over Harry’s carpet. He didn’t want the intimacy from Casper. He didn’t want the vulnerability. It was far easier to dislike him when he didn’t see the weaker side of him, the side that was a lot like Louis.

Louis ran back to Zayn’s apartment in a full-on, chest heaving, should really consider quitting smoking again, red in the face kind of run. His shoes slapped against the cement as he raced down-hill across campus, passed the gatehouse, down Florida Ave, and across the street to Zayn’s place again. He could see a single light on in the window by the fire escape. He hoped the entire apartment hadn’t gotten up to humiliate Harry.

Thankfully, as Louis was slowly turning the doorknob to the front door, he could still hear Liam’s snores. The lights were still all off. The bathroom door was still closed over. Zayn and Niall were unseen and heard. Harry was protected in the cluelessness of the evening.

“Hey, coming in.” Louis said quietly, poking his head in. Harry was slightly more vertical, already sitting up straight as Louis walked in. “Feeling better?”

“I think so.” Harry nodded. “I’m just not thinking about it.” _It_ being the looming fear of infidelity at his heart’s own mislead hand. It just had to hear the truth. “You were fast.”

“Well, would’ve been faster but I ran into Casper on my way. He says he, uh... he says ‘I love you’.” Louis kneeled beside Harry, just about ready to start praying to God next.

The first time Harry would ever heard those words come from Louis, and he was parroting someone else.

“Oh.” The words seemed to strike Harry, his posture slouching again.

“I brought your glasses and contact case.” Louis said, moving on. “And something to sleep in. That shirt can’t be comfortable.”

“Thank you, Louis.” Harry took the items slowly, unrolling the sweatshirt to get his contact case. He unspun the two caps quickly, resting it on the edge of the tub behind him before pulling out his contacts. His eyes were red and bloodshot, and both he and Louis were acting like it was only from wearing dry contacts.

“Oh, and I have a hair tie for you.” Louis pulled it off his wrist and held it out to Harry. He looked at Louis through only one squinted eye, the other still with its contact.

“Would you do it for me?” Harry waved Louis behind him. He turned and offered Louis is hair as he held his eyelid open for the second contact. “Just put it up in something.”

“S-Sure.” Louis said. He carefully pulled Harry’s curls into his hand, making sure to catch all the loose pieces by his ears and along the nape of his neck. Harry didn’t seem to mind the tugging and kept leaning back with Louis’ accidental pulls as he rescrewed the caps onto his contact case. He twisted the band around and looped Harry’s hair through it, making a lopsided bun.

As he worked, Harry slid his glasses back on his face and placed his contacts down. With his restored vision, his hands began undoing his shirt buttons. Louis tried not to notice, tried not to watch Harry slide the sheer fabric down his shoulders and let it pool around him on the floor. Louis tried not to intrude on the moment. He had the memories of being there for every tattoo on his exposed upper body. That had to be enough; there couldn’t be room for any new memories.

“Thanks.” Harry said, feeling Louis’ work before tugging his sweatshirt over his face. The sleeves fell over his hands and the waistband bunched up around his hips. “I didn’t know I needed this.”

“Small comforts go a long way.” Louis grinned and placed a hand on Harry’s back again. “Now let’s go back to sleep.”

“I think I might just stay here.” Harry said. He was only half joking. “Stay in the bathtub incase I start stress vomiting again.” Harry laughed with enough sincerity to look pained.

“Come on. Out of the bathroom.” Louis grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him to his feet. He wobbled as Harry stumbled up, grabbing his arm and the sink for balance. “You can’t spend your first day of the New Year with a cricked neck and sore knees.”

“Instead I’m going to be sleeping on the floor. Pretending I don’t hear my two friends in the other room.” Harry said, leaning past Louis to grab the doorknob. No one closed it shut on Harry this time.

“They’re just up talking.” Louis defended, leading Harry out into the hallway. He tapped on the wall near Zayn’s room, only the little wispy sounds of whispering coming from the walls. “Just like us.”

“Most of my talking was into a toilet bowl.” Harry whispered, sliding his feet down the hall. His hands were rolled up in his sleeves, arms crossing in front of him. “So, maybe not ‘us’.”

“They’re going to get a good first night’s rest of the year though.” Louis said, leading Harry back to his blanket and pillow. “We’re all going to have that in common.”

Louis crouched down and got his own blanket to wrap around his shoulders as he moved over to Harry’s pillow. Harry welcomed the closeness easily, plopping his head onto the pillow and exhaling heavily, his head lolling to look at Louis.

“I really fucked up, didn’t I?” He sighed, blinking slowly and removing his glasses.

“No. Don’t say that.” Louis moved to rest his head on the floor beside Harry’s pillow. He knew the line. “Couples fight all the time. That doesn’t mean anything, Harry.”

“But what happened tonight. Liam, that kiss, dancing, when we--”

“Shh. Go to sleep.” Louis whispered, tucking a string of hair he missed behind Harry’s ear. It was better for everyone (and Zayn’s rug) if Harry didn’t finish his sentence. “Casper loves you. You know that… That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah.” Harry mumbled, eyes sinking closed. Louis’ touch lifted the grimace from his face.

“And you love him.”

“Yeah.” Harry turned his head to fit into Louis’ hand. “Yeah.”

“Good night, Harry.” Louis whispered, lifting his hand away.

“Thanks, Louis.” Harry mumbled. “Happy New Year.”

Louis wished it was that easy. Wrong three words. Wrong kiss. Wrong boy.

* * *

**Friday. 5 January.**

After New Year’s, everyone’s schedules splintered again. Zayn had to go back to the Poli-Sci department, leaving everyone but Niall without an actual kitchen to use or couch to crash on. Louis saw him during the week in the office, waving as he passed the large glass wall. Liam had soccer obligations and coaches to deal with now that the holidays were over. Liam kept texting Louis bits of the conversation he’d have with the coaches, plenty of disgruntled commentary sent with a few choice words added in. Niall was the only one Louis saw at the Student Center, the two of them doing work quietly and merely existing near each other. It was better company than Louis’ empty room.

Louis saw Harry frequently during the first week of the New Year, but only at a distance. Harry was beginning his job at the church, walking to and from work every morning and late afternoon. On his way to the Student Center, Louis always seemed to catch Harry on his way out, tea in hand. When Louis was skating back to his dorm or walking with Niall to dinner, he’d always see Harry walking back. On his return home though, he was never alone. Casper was frequently with him, carrying his art supplies or his messenger bag. He walked down to the church to pick him up every day. He really did love him. Louis had to respect that.

Friday was their first evening off and they all promised to meet up at the Student Center as soon as they were done. Louis and Niall were there first, muddling around with the Niall’s guitar before Liam appeared, then Zayn, then finally Harry and Casper.

To celebrate their brief freedom, they wanted to see a movie, but none could agree on a title so instead they decided to agree on a time. Whenever they were all free, they’d go to the movie in that time slot without disagreement. Niall was scrolling through his phone while Liam flipped through a newspaper. Zayn was staring over Niall’s shoulder and Casper was otherwise occupied with other things on his phone while they searched. Harry had announced as they started discussing movies that his phone was in his jacket pocket and he was laughably too lazy to look himself. He wasn’t going to fight them. He’d go along with whatever they wanted to do.

“How’s nine?”

“I’m free then.” Louis said, giving a thumbs up. He was lying across the couch, watching the glint from Harry’s watch on the ceiling as he sketched in his notebook finishing plans for the mural. There were a lot of open skies. A beautiful summer day Louis could fall back into.

“That works for me too.” Niall agreed. “Harry, Casper?”

“Yeah.” Harry said. They were sharing the armchair beside Niall; Casper sitting in the seat while Harry sat on the arm rest, feet on Casper’s lap. “Told you I’m not picky today.”

“Nine sounds wonderful, Niall.” Casper smiled. He reached over to fix the folded sleeve of Harry’s white shirt, licking his finger to try and wipe some of the stray pencil smudges off. Once clean, his hands rested on Harry’s legs, gently tapping his shins.

“Zayn, is that okay?” Niall asked, trying not to act like he already knew the answer. Louis pressed his lips together to stop from smiling.

“It’s fine. I’ve got nothing else to do.”

“Great, we’ll catch a showing of-- oh, it’s that new Christmas romcom.” Niall said, turning his phone around to show the movie poster. “Everyone still okay with that?”

“Fine by me.”

“Yeah.”

“I love romcoms, Blondie, you know that.”

“Great.” Niall said. “Nine it is then. We’ll leave a bit earlier than usual though, I read the metro is under construction recently so it’s running a bit slow.”

“We can all meet at my place.” Zayn offered, looking around. They all nodded, Niall making sure to look like he was mulling the decision over. The dedication was adorable. The subtlety was admirable.

“Oh, almost forgot. You know what _I_ read today?” Liam said, lowering his paper. His tone was mischievous and he looked smug, but no one else was looking up from their phones or sketchbooks to notice. Louis turned his head from the ceiling to eye Liam.

“What’s that, babe?” Harry asked, turning his sketchbook upside down.

“Harry Styles,” He began, placing his finger on a faux headline. “takes four cocks at once.”

Louis sat up immediately, clearing his windpipe as he suddenly began choking on his breath. Niall jumped up to begin patting Louis on the back, but also give himself an excuse to not engage with the sudden conversation topic. Zayn was left sitting on the floor in stitches, joining Liam as he laughed.

Harry continued sketching nonchalantly. “Let me guess: soccer team still not remove you from the groupchat?”

“Nope. Even though I’ve seen them like, four times in the past five days.” Liam said, shaking his head. “They’re obsessed with you, Styles. You fascinate them.”

“Where did they come up with that though?” Niall asked, still smoothing Louis’ shirt and making sure he had caught his breath. It wasn’t likely with the conversation topic still going, but Louis kept breathing heavily to try and keep oxygen and blood flowing through his body-- and not one place in particular.

“Harry? You want to address the rumors? Curious minds want to know.” Liam teased, pretending to take a pen and write on the paper.

“I’m not going to confirm or deny that.” Harry said simply, holding his book out to look at the sketch. “Although, mathematically, sure. I suppose it’s not impossible.”

“Harry!” Casper spoke finally, whipping his head to stare at him. “That’s disgusting.”

Harry laughed shortly, finally lifting his eyes from his work. “You think having sex with me is disgusting? Wow, could have fooled me.”

“That’s not what I said.” Casper said through gritted teeth. “How can you just let your friends say that about you?”

“Well, it’s not true so it’s really not a big deal.” Liam said, shrugging. “I mean, obviously. He can’t. Literally.”

“Oh, honey.” Zayn said quietly, shaking his head. He covered his mouth, trying to hide his grin.

“What?” Liam demanded, the joke suddenly on him.

“Did you cut off his hands? Sew his mouth shut?”

“Oh, shit.” Liam said, eyes leaving their faces as he thought. Louis snorted in laughter and Niall started glaring at them both. “I guess you really can.”

“This is horrible conversation.” Casper muttered, crossing his legs and shifting in his chair. “I can’t believe you talk about this.”

“Well it’s either that or I’m actually fucking them.” Harry deadpanned. Casper craned his neck to stare at Harry, his face growing red and thick vein forming down his forehead. “ _Kidding_ , Casper. It’s all just good fun. Those soccer guys are honestly just perverts. I think it’s funny.”

“Funny? Good fun!” Casper repeated. He tried to keep his voice down, but everyone was watching and there was no real use to concealing their conversation. “I don’t remember any of my friends openly discussing my… my _sex life_ in public!”

“Casper, relax. It’s not a big deal.” Louis cut in. “We’re all friends here. It’s not, _judgement_ or anything. It’s just a joke. I mean, why is the soccer team even _talking_ about something like that? It’s stupid.”

“Joke? You think this constitutes as a _joke_ ? This is vulgar frat house talk. It’s disgusting.” _It wasn’t true_. “It’s childish.”

“It’s all out of love. They don’t mean anything by it, right boys? _You_ don’t spread rumors like that.” Harry asked, looking between them. Louis nodded first, but Casper was still glaring up at Harry.

“Well, I wouldn’t even begin to know how to suck a dick so really, what room do I have to speak?” Liam shrugged, folding his paper over. “Not my area of expertise.”

Harry sighed. “Thanks, Liam.” He lowered his head and went to get back to his sketch. Harry was the only one who moved, the rest of them watching Casper stare at an unknowing Harry. “Exactly the right thing to say.”

“I’m just saying! I’m impartial! Just trying to support you.” Liam teased, rolling up the newspaper. He leaned across his chair to hit Harry on the leg.

“I have far more impressive skills to support, Liam.” Harry chuckled, lifting his notebook.

“I dunno. Four’s pretty impressive.” Zayn mumbled, shrugging. Niall turned to slap his arm but stayed kneeling by Louis.

“He’s fitting in quite well.” Louis whispered to Niall, nudging him. Louis was slapped next.

“Guys. Come on.” Harry said, finally noting Casper’s discomfort. He had a white knuckle grip on Harry’s shins; it must’ve been a pretty obvious tell. “Save it--”

“Wait.” Liam said, pointing his rolled up newspaper at him. He quickly pointed at the other boys before coming back to Harry. “There’s four of us.”

“Okay.” Harry nodded, unsure of the relevance. Even Louis furrowed his eyebrows at Liam, trying to see what topic change had startled him so quickly. “What’s that mean?”

“I can’t believe it!”

“Liam. What are you talking about?” Casper said, shaking his head.

“Well, that explains why you haven't been taken from the group.” Zayn said, ignoring Casper. He used a single finger to push the newspaper away from Harry and rest back down in Liam’s lap.

“Go on, then.” Louis cut in. He and Niall nodded at Liam and Zayn hurriedly, encouraging clarification.

“They probably think _we’re_ the four.” Zayn told Niall, rolling his eyes. He took it with far better humor than Liam seemed to be. “They’ve obviously kept him to wind him up-- which he _isn’t_ seeing.”

“And you brought the rumor right to the apparent source.” Louis noted, tisking. “We are the worst gossips.”

“Tell them we’re looking for a fifth.” Harry deadpanned.

“Tell them to mind their own fucking business.” Casper argued, looking at Liam with a tense expression. The sense of competition was back, Casper trying to scare Liam out of following Harry’s crass response.

“Eh, let them be ignorant.” Harry waved the idea away with a flick of his wrist. He let it hang limply by his side as he reassessed his sketch. “We all know they’re being ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous is the word you want to use?” Niall laughed. “After what happened to you?”

“And me?” Casper added. Betrayal harrowed his face. Louis didn't think he'd see the day where he felt it belonged there.

“Ridiculous. Wrong. Ignorant. A gay man fucking all his friends? Real original.” Harry scoffed. “Sorry, I’m good. I’ve got everything I need in _one_ person.” Harry reached his left hand out to find Casper’s shoulder and squeezed it tightly. With the touch, the change in Casper’s face was sharp. Louis could almost feel the crack splitting his teeth as Casper clenched his jaw.

“Oh. Don’t insult my intelligence.” Casper seethed, spit flying and landing on Harry’s page. He dabbed it away and kept working.

“What are you talking about, Casper?” Harry said. Due to his work, Harry didn’t notice Casper’s change in tone-- almost the way Casper didn’t seem to notice the fast retraction from him by the rest of the group. Niall grabbed Louis’ shirt again, wrinkling it only to make himself smooth it.

“ _Please_ don’t play stupid.” Casper said. He blinked at Harry expectantly. Just as Harry lifted his chin-- in the motion of looking at Casper but quickly finishing his line-- Casper grabbed Harry’s sketchpad and flung it across the room, pages fluttering up into the air and scattering on the tile floor.

Harry stared down at his empty lap, pencil still dangling in his hand. “What was _that_ for? You can’t be that upset about what those idiots said-- you know it’s not true, Casper. I’m not sleeping with all four of them--”

“After what we talked about the other day? A-And you say it’s not one of them.” Casper said lowly. His face was tight with frustration, furrowing into betrayal. “And now… _‘all’ four of them_? A-And ‘looking for a fifth’? What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Casper, please don't make this bigger than it is. I just want to finish my drawing and go to a movie with you tonight. It was just a joke. I’m sorry. I’ll be better-- I know it bothers you. Please, Casper.” Harry pleaded, standing to chase after this scattered pages.

Casper stood too.

“I know which one it is, Harry.”

“Casper, not here--” Harry stopped and turned back to Casper. He looked at his four friends with burning embarrassment. Louis had never seen his courage taken so quickly. Guilt had that kind of power.

“No, here. Let's talk about it now.” Casper said, like he was encouraging Harry to partake in therapy. A confessional. “I'm already a joke to them. Let’s let me in on it! Right, Louis?”

Despite being spoken to by Casper, Louis looked to Harry. “What? Why are you asking me?”

“You know, don’t you?” Casper said. He took a step forward. Louis’ eyes quickly darted to focus on him instead. Louis wasn’t sure the fastest way to an exit. He had his skateboard; escape wasn’t completely impossible.

“Know w-what?” Louis asked, resting his feet on the ground. He tried counting how many steps until he could jump on his skateboard.

“About Niall and Harry.”

The stunned silence only lasted as long as it took Zayn to start laughing. He fell over again, clutching his sides and hiccuping with laughter. Niall grabbed him by the shoulders to yank him back upright, trying to shush him. While Zayn didn’t care for or about Casper, Niall was still very eager in keeping the peace.

“Oh, you think this is funny?” Casper spat, staring down at Zayn. Niall kept hushing him, words quiet and frantic.

“Well, you told a joke. Didn't you?” Zayn answered, wiping a tear from his eye. “First off, either of them cheating? Hilarious. Second, Niall and Harry? Fat fucking chance.”

“And you’re so sure, how?” Casper sneered. “Because when someone invites my boyfriend to bake a cake only so many messages after asking for _intimate_ details, there's only so much I can assume from that.”

“Oh. Oh no. Oh god no stop.” Harry covered his own face with mortification. Liam leaned forward in his seat, trying to keep up with the neck-snap pace of the argument. Louis leaned forward to speak to Niall while Harry continued to plead for silence.

“Sex. You asked him about sex. Fucking _sex--_ Is that really what you asked him!” Louis hissed quietly, slapping Niall’s arm repeatedly. “Are you fucking simple?”

“Is that _really_ the most important thing right now?” Niall whispered back, glaring. His eyes were glassy and his face was unsure of whether to blush or drain of all color. He began to simply look numb. “Are you going to _stop him_?”

Louis had the means to. He had the truth of something more incriminating than a few inquisitive texts. He had shared cigarettes, free drinks, and an echoing of “ _baby_ ” to clear Niall’s name. Louis was going to have to break Harry’s heart no matter how things were bound to play out.

“Casper. Don't say anything else.” Harry warned stepping forward, hands out as if to stop an oncoming train. There were no brakes. Casper had witnesses and the means to make it look like Harry had cut the line himself. “You don't know what you’re talking about.”

“‘ _Want to come over this morning? Missed you all night’._ What the fuck does that sound like to you?” Casper repeated Niall’s mistext verbatim. Louis had gotten the same one weeks prior. He knew it was for someone else, and obviously so did Harry.

Also in the room though, was the person who was meant to get the text, who understood the meaning and power behind the words. The person who recognized the words as _his_ lover’s, not some copy and paste garbage to be reiterated through the slime of distrust.

“Now wait just a second.” Zayn said, shifting himself to stand. Niall shook his head and tried to tug him back to the floor. “That text wasn’t meant for Harry and you know that.” He pushed himself to his feet, looking at Casper with a strange look of amusement.

“Oh yeah? How do _you_ know?” Casper countered. “Why are you defending this whore?” The word was far too comfortable in the conversation, taking Harry’s seat and settling into the worn leather. It had been hovering around them for a while. It had hung in the air, but none of them had the desire to voice it. No one believed it.

“Because I answered that text.” Zayn said plainly. “And there’s no way Niall meant it for anyone else-- also, he doesn’t have the _time_ to be having an affair with Harry!” Zayn laughed, waving his hand out to Niall and, less notably, to himself.

“And why’s that?” Casper kept feeding the fire hoping to back Zayn into a corner and burn him.

“Because he’s almost always with _me_ .” Zayn crossed his arms. “Niall can’t be sleeping with Harry. He’s kind of already got his hands full. Might not be _four_ but, he’s got one.”

“Oh my god.” Niall put his head in his hands. “I want to die.”

“Wait.” Liam said, holding his hands out to stop Casper’s fiery rebuttal. “Are _you two_ sleeping together?”

“ _Why_ is that what you are focusing on?” Niall cried, head shooting up to look at Liam. He was distraught, his entire planned announcement being ruined by a dear friend’s jealous boyfriend.

“Yes! I’m just trying to catch up here!” Liam said. He wasn’t going to take Casper’s word on it. He hadn’t taken the soccer team’s word on Harry all those years ago and waited for him to come out himself. Casper was no different. “I just want to know if it’s true.”

Louis motioned across from him to cut it out. He emphatically nodded that _yes, they were_ , but still motioned for him to shut his mouth. An outing didn't need a peanut gallery. Louis would let Liam ask him all the embarrassing questions in private later.

“It’s not Niall, Casper.” Harry said. His guilt was fast-growing, his words so heavy they sank as they entered the air. “Leave him and Zayn alone.”

“Well, you said it yourself! You had feelings for someone else. And if I'm foolish enough to believe you when you say it's not Niall. Then who is it? Why are you lying to me?“ Casper pleaded.

The skateboard was forgotten and so was Louis’ escape route. Niall was nearly in tears on the floor, humiliation forever tied to his coming out. Harry was just about vomiting, chest heaving as he tried to breathe evenly. His own honesty-- with Casper, Louis, and with God-- had all backfired into one finger-pointing public shaming. There were no other options for Louis other than to expose the truth-- or maybe do a bit more lying. For old time’s sake.

“It’s me.” Louis said, standing. “I-It’s me. I’m the one coming onto Harry.”

“Fuck.” Liam groaned. He covered his mouth first before sliding his hand up to his eyes, not wanting to see the carnage. The rail turned and the train locked onto Louis, tying himself to the tracks.

“Louis, _don’t_.” Harry begged. He reached forward but his feet were still planted to the tile floor. He stood among the scattered sketches, most of their final drafts able to be found on the underside of Louis’ skateboard.

“It’s true.” Louis pressed on. “At New Year’s, I asked Harry to--” Louis was going to lie only to Casper, not to himself. “Harry to, uh, come to the bathroom with me. He obviously said no.” Louis tried to laugh. It was all a dream anyway.

“You?” Casper muttered. It was a relief and an insult that Louis had been considered a non-threat until then. No one could have been more blind than either Louis or Harry, but Casper was catching up fast.

“We were both really plastered… He told me off right away. It was probably so weird and he just… It’s my fault.” Louis confessed. “Leave Niall alone.”

“I can’t believe it was you. This whole time, it was _you_.” Casper seethed, advancing toward Louis. Louis jumped back, foot resting near the skateboard and ready to pop it up into his hands. It could then become a mode of transportation or a weapon.

“He said no.” Louis said firmly, nearly shouting. “He told me no. He turned me down. He’s not cheating on you. He’s not sleeping with any of us-- and he’s just making jokes. You don’t get to be jealous.” That was Louis’ job.

“How dare you tell me what to do--”

Zayn was still standing and stepped in front of Louis. His arms were crossed but his legs were spaced and ready to balance him for a solid punch. Louis never realized until then how tall Casper was. How broad his shoulders stretched, how demanding his stature was of a room, how little he cared to accommodate anyone else. It occured to Louis only then, that arguing with Casper wasn’t ever really an argument, but a scrap for every last piece of ground they wanted to keep. Harry had been fighting for his hair, his body, his clothes, and his friends, but suddenly he was stood behind Casper with his lips pressed together like he was waiting for Casper to sew them closed.

Zayn didn’t have the empathy to care how Casper wanted to appear or how he wanted to win.

“You’ve already insulted two of us, don’t start pushing it with the other three.” He said, placing a hand on Casper’s chest. “Back off.”

“Going to defend him again. I get it. Make me the fool, I get it.”

“I don’t think you do.” Zayn countered. “We aren’t ganging up on you-- you’ve just lost your shit.”

“Harry _told me himself_ \-- you know what? I’m not going to stand here and let you talk me into circles.” Casper stood tall against Zayn’s advancing push against his chest. “Come find me when you want to be honest.”

Casper slapped Zayn’s hand away and stepped back. He shouldered Harry nearly to the ground as he went for the doors. He left them in a daunting silence none were ready to confront. With Casper, he had enough to say that they never had to gather any courage on their own; he’d always break it and get them talking.

“So when were you going to tell me about this?” Liam asked, crossing his arms. “I mean, _when_?” He looked between Niall and Zayn expectantly, waiting for either of them to start speaking. They laughed awkwardly, Niall grabbing Zayn’s hand to yank him back down to the floor.

With the three of them talking, Louis walked over to Harry. He picked up the stray sketches under his feet along the way. Harry’s head was hung low as he bent over, hands crumpling his sketches as he hurriedly shoved them back in his book. He didn’t notice Louis until he was right beside him, hand delicately touching between his shoulder blades.

“Harry?”

“What.” Harry gritted, snatching the papers from Louis and forcing them in with the others.

“Are you okay?”

“I was just humiliated in front of my friends. I’m fucking _great_!” Harry lifted his head quickly, hair flipping back. His eyes were bloodshot and tears pooled along his bottom lid. His bottom lip quivered as he stared at Louis. His hands trembled and the notebook spilled more pages by their feet.

“I’m so sorry.” Louis muttered. “I didn’t think he’d explode like that.”

“That makes two of us.” Harry sighed. “At least you tried. I really appreciate it. I forgot how fast you can lie.” Harry didn’t know how long Louis had been doing it. He also didn’t know how long Louis had wanted to retire from it.

“Well, it’s a lot faster when you tell the truth.” Louis said, taking one last step into his own grave.

“W-What?” Harry blinked at Louis with a quiet scoff. He shed a few tears too many to be laughing, but he tried. “What about anything that just happened had any--” New Year’s Eve flashed before him. Louis’ hand, grabbing his waist, pressing against his stomach, their wandering eyes, the unabashed six dollar excuses they kept chugging to make every touch acceptable. “Oh.”

“I know what I’m doing to you guys.” Louis admitted. “And I can’t stand to watch it anymore. I think I’m going to bow out for a while--”

“You don’t have any idea.” Harry countered strongly, shaking his head. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

“I’m sorry. I--”

“You just _say_ shit like this and,” Harry took in an unsteady breath, his eyes glistening as they pooled with hot, unavoidable tears. “And I realize that I wouldn’t have stopped you then. Or now.”

There it was. The admission, loud and clear. Louis had to reject Harry again. Now they were even.

“I don’t have to be your boy anymore. Casper deserves that honor.” Louis said, stepping back. “But you’ll always be mine.”

“Louis, please.” Harry looked like he wanted to step forward, but his fear of what would happen when the chase stopped won out. It was the same fear that kept Louis’ feet moving.

Louis kept walking. Down the hall, out the door, and across the quad. He left his skateboard behind, nothing to push him to his dorm except his own desire to be isolated and desensitized to his own actions. He’d leave the last four years with Harry to reclaim. It was his artwork. It was his own heart Harry had to take back, and Louis’ heart he got to keep.

Not that Harry would want it. After all, Louis couldn’t get out of his own way to let Harry be happy. Louis just _had_ to lie to everyone and expose Harry and his own feelings of infidelity, if only to himself.

Louis turned off his phone and placed it on his desk as he climbed into bed. His body ached, feeling every bone in his body sting inside of him. It was like he had been cut in half, his body hollow and reverberating with it’s own thumping heartbeat and shivering breaths.

A single crack ran up Louis’ chest, his heart fracturing. He’d be the first to shatter. A collection of dust to be swept away in the next of gust of wind searching for a kite.

At least Louis had stopped lying.

* * *

**Sunday. 7 January**.

Louis had never seen the inside of a Catholic church before. He hadn’t prayed since he was aged in the single digits. Guilt was a powerful motivator.

Well, guilt and Niall at his dorm door at six in the morning with a cup of strong coffee and a threatening level of cheerfulness.

“I was going to take Zayn, but he’s working-- and I can’t be in the same room with Liam without him giving me the third degree over my relationship so. You’re coming with me.” Niall said plainly, thrusting the coffee cup out to Louis. He was well-dressed and in his usual peacoat. Louis was still just trying to button his shirt.

“You do realize he _doesn’t_ want to see me, right? That’s got to be pretty obvious.” Louis said.

“Look, I saw him going to work this morning and lugging about nine different tackle boxes of paint. He’s going to be pleased to see four other hands to help him get home.” Niall replied. “You don’t even have to speak.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Louis said. He tucked his shirt tails into his pants before buttoning them and fastening his belt. Niall looked his outfit over quickly before nodding and holding out the coffee again. Louis took a careful sip. He never trusted how Niall made coffee. “Also, don’t think I’m not going to give you the third degree over your hidden summer fling.”

“Oh Christ.”

“Good thing we’re going to see Him. You’ll need all the help you can get.” Louis quipped, slipping on his coat.

“I’m not telling you anything.” Niall tossed Louis’ keys at him and went for the door. “I’m not letting this become weird.”

“I’m going to see my best friend, someone I’m known to be in love with, at his job, unannounced, at his Catholic church, to see if he’s okay after I revealed to his boyfriend that he had been dealing with romantic feelings outside of their relationship. There’s _nothing_ weird about you and Zayn.” Louis deadpanned. “You fucking wish.”

“Don’t think of it like that. You’re just going to support a friend. Or support your friend supporting your other friend.”

“Or making the worst mistake of my life.”

“No. That would be faking a boyfriend. _That’s_ obvious.”

Louis set his jaw but kept following Niall down the halls to the first floor. “I deserved that.”

Louis wasn’t sure where Harry’s chosen church was and followed Niall blindly. Niall muttered street names and double-backed on a few blocks more than once, but Louis followed regardless. As long as he had bitter coffee to keep him somewhat distracted, Louis would follow Niall all the way to Chinatown if he took him.

The cathedral was imposing on the city block, once they found it. It seemed out of place along the thin rowhomes the next street over, but also seemed to be the neighborhood’s keeper. The tall steeple cast shadows over their roofs and stating its presence. Louis couldn’t imagine having that be his daily view. He wondered if it was anything of what Harry felt, having the church’s looming presence haunting him. The same shape formed perfectly by his left thumb.

Once in the foyer, Louis could smell fresh setting paint. The main entrance to the church was at the far end of the foyer, tall dark oak doors partially open and revealing the rows of pews behind them. To their left was a smaller white door, “YOUTH CENTER” written in a playful script across the top with colorful handprints covering the rest of the door. Niall started for the door before Louis had time to collect himself, preparing just how clueless he’d appear as he tried to act like nothing had happened.

“Excuse me, boys. The Center is closed for the next few days. It’s being renovated.” A man stepped forward, seemingly ready for their intrusion. He was a priest-- or was it monsignor? Louis wasn’t even sure of the proper greeting. He stood behind Niall and smiled awkwardly, hands digging into his pockets. Louis knew his name had been spoken in that cathedral, possibly to the man in front of them, while in confession.

“We’re just here to see Harry.” Niall said. “He’s painting here, isn’t here?”

“Just here to check on the artist.” Louis added. “We’ll be out of your hair soon. Father.”

“He’s right through there. But don’t be too long. He’s on a tight deadline.” He pointed down a small L-shaped hallway, all but following the smell of paint.

Louis treaded carefully behind Niall, not sure if he should pronounce his approach or wait until he was directly in front of Harry. He wasn’t expecting anyone at work, let alone Louis. He couldn’t imagine what conversation he had stirred up for them. Louis didn’t get a voicemail the second time around. And he wasn’t taking that as a good sign.

“Hey, good morning.” Niall spoke softly, rounding the corner first and stepping through another colorful door. “We just wanted to check on you.”

“You guys didn’t have to--” Harry started, his voice soft and sweet, but stopped when Louis stepped into view rather than Zayn.

Harry’s hair was pushed back in a thin yellow headband, knotted and unkept. Paint was smeared under Harry’s chin, over his cheek, and all over his hands. He was in the same white shirt from Friday, now covered in shades of purple and blue, no smock on to cover him. The disbelief upon seeing Louis told him all he needed to know about how much Harry had been sleeping; he seemed to be expecting a hallucination.

“Oh.” He said, blinking at Louis.

“How are you holding up?” Niall asked, pressing on.

“Perfect.”

“Harry.” Louis said, deciding silence would be a far lesser conversation between them. “You look terrible. Have you eaten today?”

“No.” Harry said flatly, his arm falling and slapping against his leg. His paintbrush dabbed another paint spot on his black jeans. “I haven’t been able to _stomach_ anything in three days.”

“Harry, you should come with us. Get something.” Niall encouraged Harry with a gentle reach for his paintbrush.

“I really need to finish this.”

“You can’t stay upset like this--”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now. Not here.” Harry said, turning back to his mural. He nudged his glasses up onto the top of his head to see his linework closer, and to lose the clarity of their faces. “I’m not proud of myself nor want to be excused for it.”

“We’re not here to make excuses. We just want to know what happened, Love.”

“We broke up.” Harry said harshly, swiftly dragging his paintbrush across the white wall. “Casper came to my room and he just asked me if it was all true. And then he took his shit and he walked out. I haven’t seen him in two days.” He lowered his paintbrush again, and braced himself against the wall with his opposite arm. He closed his eyes and let his entire body cave for a moment-- let his shoulders drop, back slouch, legs buckle-- before inhaling sharply. “I haven’t seen him in two days. And I _don’t care_.” Harry coughed and immediately stepped back from the wall. He wasn’t going to vomit on his work.

“Harry, that’s alright, you’re just--”

“Why don’t I miss him?” Harry asked angrily. He was on his last surge of energy. Every part of his body was trying to get their last bit of the pulse-- his arms tense and hands trembled, his legs wobbled his entire frame back and forth, his shoulders hunched, and his back arched as his chest collapsed inward in a final sigh of exasperation. “What kind of _monster_ am I? What kind of person am I?”

“An honest one.” Niall said slowly. He let a silence speak between his sentences. “You’re not a monster, Harry. We don’t think that. No one does. And you shouldn’t either.”

“Why not? I dated someone while I was still--” The words were there. Louis could see them, hear them ringing in their silence. They weren’t disguised in shared cigarettes or a soft-spoken “Happy Birthday”. Harry was grappling with the truth as his heart finally climbed high enough to collide with his mind. Casper undoubtedly caught him up on the past two weeks of their life. Harry had finally seen everything from Casper’s point of view. But only he had to answer to every secret word he’d spoken to Louis. Secrets always echoed louder.

 _While I was still in love with someone else_.

“How were you supposed to know how you’d feel?” Louis asked, boldly pretending he wasn’t talking about himself.

“Because I never _stopped_ feeling that way.”

It had been there the entire time. In every smile, in every brushstroke on Louis’ skateboard, in every wink and kiss, in a free drink, in erased tree leaves. It had been there the day after Christmas. It had disguised itself in asking about Danny with the excuse of being a best friend. It was curiosity and jealousy. It was an attempt to be happy for someone he’d had already given up. It was why Casper’s attempt to make up was greeted with short answers and why Harry’s hand never left Louis’. It had been there: the swelling, pulsing, surging desire to love, and Louis had walked in with a story of offering himself to someone else.

Louis hadn’t even been honest. He didn’t tell him about the emptiness, the ache, the discomfort at the hands of another man. The way _he_ never stopped feeling.

The honesty and silence disagreed. They were saying the same thing, but in two difficult ways. One was punishing, the other was begging. Harry spoke a victim’s sentence, blame pointed firmly at himself while the silence echoed with regret. Harry didn’t have to regret his accidental blindness; Louis was standing and listening and feeling the same way, but Harry couldn’t hear over his own words.

“Did you explain that to Casper?” Niall asked, still trying to help reach a solution or help him cope. Niall didn’t understand that there wasn’t anything he could do if Harry didn’t know he wasn’t standing alone, clutching the shattered pieces of his heart. Harry had to know it had just simply shed a shell, a whole new heart intact behind it.

“Yes.”

“And what did he say?”

“It’s not worth repeating.” Harry said, wiping his paintbrush on his pants. “He got the picture though. So did I. And that’s when he left. Way too cleanly, like I’d already been waiting for it!”

There was nothing to offer. Harry was still speaking only with honesty. There was no denying that grief only appeared in those that experience loss, not relief. It should not have felt like revealing a secret; quiet at first before swelling inside his chest ready to pop in a ringing scream up into the sky. At the moment, Harry’s scream was mostly at himself, keeping him away for days on end and stomach on edge. Grief could disguise itself to look the same, but it was much tamer. It exhaled, never raising its voice. There was far too much noise. Harry hadn’t lost anyone.

“I think you should go home.” Harry said quietly. The relief heard its echo and recoiled. “I have to finish this. I’m sorry.”

“Call me after work, Harry. I’ll get you dinner, drop it off or something. Don’t make me force feed you.” Niall pointed at Harry, smiling but only to see if it’d appear on Harry’s face. Briefly, he succeeded.

“Bye. Thanks for stopping.” Harry lowered his glasses back on his nose and turned back to his wall.

Niall left first, leaving the door open in confidence that Louis was right behind him, eager to leave. Louis contemplated both staying and leaving. At that moment, it felt like running away. Harry was vulnerable, screaming out to him, and Louis could feel it. It curled around him, slowly shedding him down to his bare skin. He was naked but not in a foreign apartment. He was with Harry. It was safe.

Louis stepped up and stood beside Harry. Louis waited for him to turn, needing to know he wouldn’t lay himself out and be ignored. The honesty was dry in Louis’ mouth. It took more than one try to spit up.

“I want you to know that trying to bury something causing you pain isn’t a bad thing. It’s burying something that makes you happy that will fuck you up.” Louis dragged his eyes over Harry noticeably. “And I want you to know, I never stopped feeling that way either. I’m tired of burying it.”

By the last word, the honesty was thick and sweet like honey. Something in Louis lifted despite the heaviness of the words. It was a blissful lightheadedness.

“Let me know when you need help digging it up, okay?” Louis touched Harry’s shoulder, careful to avoid any wet paint, but still firmly squeezing him. The words were still there, but could go unspoken a moment longer, still rising from the grave.

Louis looked at his fingers as he walked back down the hallway. He hadn’t avoided the paint well enough and a droplet was beginning to smudge between his fingertips, drying before it had the chance to drip. It was a bright color. A drop of spring in dying winter. A ripe, Granny Smith apple green.

* * *

**Wednesday. 10 January.**

The local news had predicted a small sprinkle of snow for Wednesday evening into Thursday, but not a near-blizzard. By the time Louis woke up that early afternoon, there was at least a half inch on the ground and enough wind to erase any visibility as he looked outside. Louis couldn’t even see the tree by his window. He let it be an excuse to sit in bed and mope. He called his family as he feigned productivity, changing from one set of pajamas to another more presentable pair.

They talked until there was an inch or so snow on the ground. His mother wanted to know about his New Year’s celebrations, which Louis shared with horrible inaccuracy. His sisters passed around the phone asking about his birthday more in depth now that Christmas wasn’t hanging over them. He heard another chapter of Phoebe's book, hometown gossip from Lottie, and a new earworm children’s song from Daisy. It was comforting. He was feeling homesick again.

After their call, Louis needed a smoke. It was freezing outside, but Louis couldn’t ignore the weight on his shoulders. It had lifted before, and a cigarette wouldn’t do anything close, but it was the only way he had to treat his sickening symptoms. Harry had texted Niall and Louis a simple “thank you” again after they left. Niall text Louis to say he had gotten Harry something to eat and left it at his room. Louis responded to neither. Every possible response felt wrong. Louis was standing with a shovel, waiting to dig Harry back up from his own coverup. That afternoon, the least Louis could do was go outside and try to see if there was a fresh plot of ground for himself if the silence continued much longer.

He didn’t change out of his pajamas and headed downstairs to the lobby. He had his fleece lined jacket on with his collar popped and knitted hat pulled over his head to cover the tops of his ears. He snuck around to the back exit, lighting his cigarette inside before swinging the door open and stepped just under the overhanging roof. Louis was glad students weren’t due for another few days; he closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. He was in no way a role model. He was just trying to remember what it felt like to be steady.

“If smoking doesn’t kill you, the hypothermia sure will.”

Louis opened his eyes and searched in the falling snow for the voice. The wind had taken a deep breath, stilling for a moment and allowing clear visibility. Harry was trudging through the snow toward Louis’ building. He was in his striped coat, his hair tousled and whipping in the wind. The snow clung to the fabric of his coat, the frozen tips of his hair, and even his eyelashes despite being behind his glasses.

Their reunion was gentle. Harry stood beside Louis and leaned against the wall, trying to wipe his glasses clean and correctly see Louis. There were no smudges on his glasses or paint scattered over his clothes. The tone in Harry’s voice was lighter, no longer letting every past regret drag along his new conversations. There was hesitation, of course, but only in honesty, not the commitment. Harry bit his lip before letting himself smile. The corner of his eyes crinkled and his dimples bracketed his lips. Of everything that had changed since orientation, Harry’s bright smile wasn’t one of  them.

“Want it.” Louis held the cigarette out to Harry. Despite the numbness in his fingers, Louis felt his body thrum with new warmth.

“Well, if you insist. You’ve twisted my arm.” Harry said, taking the cigarette and placing it between his lips. His cheeks hollowed in the same way Louis had never thought he’d come to regret seeing. He passed it back and blew his smoke out between his pursed lips.

“How are you today? You look better.” Louis noted. His jacket sleeves were still torn, but it couldn’t distract from the remodeling he’d done to his attitude since Sunday.

“I am. I’m better. I’m just… really embarrassed. I fooled myself for a pretty long time, didn’t I?” Harry sighed. Louis nodded, but he knew the exact feeling.

“You picked up where I left off.” Louis laughed, his cigarette bouncing between his lips. Harry stared at Louis, but when Louis offered another drag, it seemed the cigarette wasn’t his focus.

“You, uh, you know who I ran into yesterday?” Harry said, dragging a hand through his hair. Louis prompted him with a quiet hum as he exhaled again. “Danny.”

“Oh. What did he say?”

“Nothing. He was nice. Really nice. Are you two like… a thing now? Because, Liam’s right he got really--”

“No.” Louis scoffed. “We aren’t. Not a chance.” Not a chance Louis would play a role in having his and Harry’s paths fail to cross again-- whenever that’d be. He had been running parallel to Harry’s for a while, just waiting to steer right into him.

“Oh. Can I ask why not? You two seemed to get on good.”

“Eh, there’s a big difference between feeling good and meaning something.” Louis shrugged. “He’s just not for me.”

Harry took the cigarette to try and compose his smile. “That’s a shame. He’s kind of hot now.”

“I miss the glasses.” Louis sighed, rolling his eyes  “It’s just not the same.”

“You prefer those cursed with horrible vision?” Harry laughed, coughing out smoke.

“Nearsightedness is a _huge_ turn on.” Louis teased. He squinted his eyes and leaned closer to Harry.

“Oh shut up. I don’t look like that.” Harry shoved Louis back. The conversation was still about Danny, but they both knew better than to believe that. “Well, actually, did I ever tell you about Robert Steele? Oh my _god_. I single-handedly ended that relationship on the fifth date with my own visual incompetence.”

“What the fuck did you do?”

“We were making out and then all of a sudden, my one contact-- it’s always my left one I swear-- my one contact got fucked up but I wasn’t about to _stop_ so I just… kept my one eye closed.”

“You mean you were pirate squinting at Bobby Steele while you were feeling him up?” Louis cried, covering his mouth as he started laughing. Harry blinked at Louis, lips pressed together. “Oh my _god_.”

Harry shoved Louis’ side again and he stumbled over, trying to keep himself out of the snow and his cigarette from ashing on either of their feet. The candid memory allowed for a comfortable silence. Date stories didn’t feel awkward and didn’t elicit jealousy. They didn’t seem to feel the need. They remained quiet, leaning against the wall. Harry tucked his hands under his arms and puffed his cheeks as he breathed.

“It’s getting pretty cold.” Louis said, taking his last drag. “Want to come back to my room?”

"Would you mind?”

"No. You're always welcome." Louis smiled, waving him inside. It was a good idea. They’d have no strange boundaries. They could just _be_ , finally. “And, bonus, still no residents to come bothering us while we’re trying to relax.”

“Ugh that was the worst day; I had a hundred and three fever and that freaking boy kept coming in complaining about how he thought his roommate used his toothpaste.” Harry shook his head in disbelief, the snow fluttering down from his hair.

“And you were staying with me because your roommate back then wouldn’t stop watching TV without headphones, right? He like, refused?” Louis brushed the snow off his shoulders and sides of his pants as they waited for the elevator. Harry pulled his hands from his pockets and stretched them in the warmth, his rings clacking together as his knuckles flexed.

“If I wanted to listen to all those medical dramas, I would have become a doctor myself.” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“Or just dated one.” Louis said, joke slipping out just as the doors opened. Perfect, an enclosed space to keep Louis still as Harry slapped him across the face.

“Or I could just date one.” Harry echoed, laughing. “That’s all the medical drama I’ll ever want.” He stepped onto the elevator and pressed for Louis’ floor. Louis blinked at him, still unsure. “Well, come on. You have the key, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Louis got in the elevator beside Harry. They both had a wall railing to lean against but instead remained loyal to their shared personal space right in front of the doors. Their fuzzy metal reflection was familiar again; right beside each other, barely separate. Louis pretended he didn’t see Harry turn to watch him through the reflection. Louis smiled, but made sure it appeared to be only for himself.

They got off the elevator together and Harry took the unspoken lead, holding his hand out behind him for Louis’ key as he walked. Louis handed it to Harry willingly, letting him open his room for them. His room was slightly in disarray from the hectic past week. Physically, Louis did very little-- as evident from his unmade bed and piling laundry-- but internally, no part of him had been still for about a full seven days. In the past three days alone, Louis laid in his bed, tossing and rolling and turning and muttering aloud to cover up the restless silence screaming in his head. Louis wondered if it showed in the way things were strewn about. If it did, Harry didn’t let on and started shouldering his coat off.

It appeared to Louis immediately that Harry’s clothes were haphazardly put on; the buttons on his shirt were mismatched and the tails were barely tucked into his jeans. His butterfly tattoo poked above his crooked buttonline and his cross necklace swung between his swallows as he moved toward Louis’ bed. He lifted his knees up first, kneeling on the edge of the mattress before crawling to the wall and plopping down. He sat closer to the end of the bed, the comforter obviously pooled in the middle where Louis had been sitting before. Louis toed off his shoes and walked to meet Harry.

The scene was familiar: sitting on Louis’ bed, staring out his window at the knotted tree slowly tapping against the glass, shoulders pressed tightly together, and hands resting on their laps only because it put them in each other’s eyeline, incase one was much braver than the other.

“What were you reading?” Harry pointed to the book on Louis’ side table. “Homework already?”

“No. Some music history book from Niall.” Louis said, remembering it for the first time since Christmas. The yellow sticky notes poking from the top pages looked laughably ambitious now that Louis couldn’t remember a single thing he wrote on them. “It was an alright read.”

“You didn’t finish it.” Harry laughed, leaning over Louis’ legs to grab the sticky notes placed on top. His torso stretched over Louis’ knees as he strained to reach without actually getting up from his spot on the bed. Louis kept his hands in his lap, trying not to picture what tattoos were showing as Harry’s shirt fell forward. For his sanity, the boy needed to learn how to use buttons.

“I’ve read enough.” Louis answered once Harry sat upright. He had Louis’ pen and yellow sticky notes in hand, loudly clicking the pen before holding the pad up. He started sketching immediately. “What are you drawing now?”

“You.” Harry said with swift certainty. “I’ve mastered the tree and now it’s your turn.”

“Don’t draw me. Draw the tree again. I’m not a very good model today.” Louis said, placing his hand over the notepad.

“Oh shut up you look fine.” Harry laughed, pushing against Louis’ arm with his elbow. “Let me at least attempt an eye-- or a nose.”

“You are naming the worst parts of my face right now.” Louis whined, trying to tug the pen out of Harry’s hand.

“How about your _other_ eye.”

“No.”

“Cheekbones!”

“How do you draw _just_ that?”

“How about your lips.”

Louis stopped fighting Harry and shamelessly let his hand rest on Harry’s arm, simply to touch. They had tipped over slightly, Louis resting his weight against Harry’s side as he stretched for the paper. Harry blinked at Louis in the guiltless moment, waiting for the rejection. He smirked at Louis’ speechless response.

“Lips it is.”

Louis knew drawing someone required extended staring and studying. Louis also knew that Harry knew this, which offered no explanation for his suggestion. It was an excuse to stare at Louis’ lips, plain and simple. And neither of them were trying to pretend to be interested in anything else.

Harry’s pen seemed to caress each line of Louis’ lips, creating them and then tracing over them with feather delicacy. Louis could almost feel Harry’s hands on him, finger tracing over his upper lip, thumb swiping under his bottom lip. He had felt it before-- a timid Valentine’s day when the sensation was exciting because it was strange and new-- but the thought then was completely different. Louis could imagine the slow drag of Harry’s thumb over his lip, the pull parting them and making him open his mouth. Harry’s thumb could slip its way through his lips and into his mouth, cheek hollowing around it. Spit would run down his chin, sweeter than any apple.

“I can’t get them right.” Harry muttered, crumpling the top square and throwing it onto the floor. “Take two.”

“Should I do something different with them?” Louis asked, chewing his bottom lip.

“I’m not going to ask you to smile for the next--” Harry looked up to start again and saw Louis’ attempt at posing-- and unknown seduction. “That works. Yeah, that totally works. Keep doing that.”

Harry stared a lot less that time, his pen flowing across the small paper with near automatic movements. Louis could see his lips appearing, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and looking far more needy without any other features. There were no wide, slightly frightened eyes sitting above the lips, but instead a pair of green ones staring back at Louis.

“Here. A-All done.” Harry pulled the paper from the pad and handed it to Louis. He took it carefully, and leaned over his pillows to stick it on the window pane, right in front of the tree.

“There. No you can stare at that for the next three years and perfect them.” Louis said leaning back. Harry hummed in agreement with a laugh, but when Louis turned to him, he wasn’t looking at his drawing to study. “Harry?”

He blinked his eyes forcefully to the window. His eyes tracked the snow falling past Louis’ window. “Why is it always so fucking cold when we hang out." He said, topic shooting out to ignore Louis topicless question.

"At least it finally actually snowed this time." Louis noted. The night of his birthday, the chill hung in the air heavily. It hovered over them as Louis hovered over Harry, legs framing his thighs.

"You felt that too?" Harry said, words quiet as he looked away from the window.

“Yeah.” Louis nodded. He never stopped feeling it.

"You know...I told myself,” Harry rubbed the back of his neck and looked back at the window. He looked at his drawing, lips parting to respond to their needy pose. Louis placed his hands back in his lap and waited. “I told myself that night, outside in the courtyard, that if it started snowing I would kiss you. It’d be a sign that I was supposed to.”

“Oh.” Louis breathed. He let his hand reached over for Harry’s, fearlessly breaking the boundary first.

“And I didn’t know I was still hoping it would.”

Louis thought he’d have more to say, finally erupt with all the frustration he’d been swallowing, but he could only stare. Harry’s chest was slowly shaking as he breathed. His confession was new to only his lips; the rest of him already seemed to know.

“I-I was hoping too.” Louis said finally. The words sounded foreign; they were finally speaking into their silence. “I would have kissed you.”

“I wish you’d kiss me now.” Harry whispered, another unexpected truth finding its way out.

Louis righted his posture and was reaching for Harry before either knew what they were doing. Louis had no idea how to kiss Harry, no idea how he even thought it would feel. His expectations were erased by the suspense of four years, at least eight boyfriends between them, and a shattered silence.

He grabbed Harry’s shirt and pulled him forward, Harry’s hands dropping to balance himself on the mattress as he tipped over. Louis couldn’t wait. He kissed Harry hard, mouth already open and breath hot against his. Harry gasped softly, his hands sliding up to Louis’ legs as he found his bearings on the mattress. Harry was on his knees, hands resting on Louis’ thighs as they clambered together.

Harry tasted sweet, full of honey and anticipation. His lips were soft, dragging over Louis’ with a careful intensity. It was like he was trying to retrace his work, but couldn’t stop himself from trying to fall deeper into the kiss. Louis wanted him to fall. Let him shatter in a whole new way.

Louis groaned first, the sudden slick swipe of Harry’s tongue along his bottom lip surprising, but unknowingly desired. He was embarrassed at first, but Harry didn’t stop to let him grow timid. He tugged on Louis’ bottom lip with his teeth, recreating the drawing on his own. Before Harry could even act the tiniest bit smug over his ability to make Louis whimper, Louis was pulling at Harry’s shirt buttons. The moment Louis’ hand grazed Harry’s warm chest, a phantom seemed to shock him, everything going cold.

“Wait. Wait.” Louis said, pulling away. “Harry, a-are you sure?”

“What is there to be unsure about?” Harry panted, hand grabbing at Louis’ face. The distance was poison. Louis felt the world slow back down, but he forced himself to speak.

“I don’t want to just fill a void or something.” The way Louis wanted Harry was marrow-deep and buzzing inside of him. He couldn’t take a rebound excuse to put them together.

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked, shaking his head quickly. “No. No-- I told you. I never stopped having feelings for you. I just now know you feel the same way-- and I can’t let it slip by. I’m your boy now. Only your boy.”

“Come here then.” Louis said, pulling Harry on top of him as he leaned back on the bed.

It was fast and sloppy, so much time boiling over in the split decision of a sentence. Louis thought back to their summer afternoon, kites abandoned on the ground, and Louis thinking of leaning down and kissing Harry in his childhood play spot; thinking about pressing their bodies together and running his hands through Harry’s curls. The two of them moaning into the quiet summer breeze.

“Can I take off your shirt?” Harry asked, speaking between their teeth clashing and heavy breathing. He was asking for Louis’ boundaries. He was trying to gauge where their unraveling afternoon was going to stop, and Louis had no limits. He had been waiting since he was eighteen to finally have Harry to himself, to have Harry know exactly how he felt about him.

“Yes, yes please.” Louis breathed, lifting his arms and letting Harry pull it over his head. The motion was swift, but the reveal into new levels of vulnerability drug on. Harry’s hands were hesitant to touch him, the burning warmth of his hands teasing over Louis’ chest as he decided if he would.

“It’s alright, Harry. It’s fine-- here, let me help you with yours.” Louis said. He reached for Harry’s buttons, really only having three to do before he could slide it off his shoulders. The traceable history of each one of Harry’s tattoos was clear for Louis to take in again shamelessly. The swallows on Harry’s chest were nearly taking off as his chest heaved, Louis placing a gentle hand on them to calm Harry. He traced the cross hanging between them, twisting it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Oh wow.” Harry sighed, looking down at Louis. He placed his hand over Louis’ and ran his hands down his own bare chest before tracing the words tattooed on Louis’. “Why doesn’t this feel weird?”

“I don’t know.” Louis laughed, reaching to tug on the belt loops of Harry’s jeans. It was meant at first to merely yank Harry back down onto him, but the pull had their hips rolling together before either had thought of the possibility. “Oh shit.”

“Y-Yeah.” Harry was flushing red, his jaw tight as he tried to exhale evenly. His hips squirmed against Louis’ again, his tough denim having no competition with Louis’ thin flannel pants. Louis was letting himself grind his hips up at Harry, sure and dizzy with friction, and nearly missed Harry’s screwed up expression.

“Why don’t you…” Louis reached between them, fumbling for Harry’s zipper. His hand grazed along Harry’s half hard cock. Louis had to act like he hadn’t noticed it, just like Harry was with Louis’. To ignore his hard cock was one thing, to ignore that it was _him_ who was the direct cause was a horrible task. It made every contortion of Harry’s face and gasp from his open mouth twist sharply in Louis’ stomach.

“Should I?” Harry mumbled.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” Louis said, laughing softly. “Take your damn pants off.”

“I-I’m not… I don’t think you want… Louis,” Harry sputtered, cognition slipping through the same fingers that were palming himself over his jeans.

“You’re not, what?” Louis asked. He could already see that Harry’s hips were missing a certain elastic waistband-- just like his vision at New Year’s. Louis wanted to hear Harry admit it though. Make sure it was real for them both.

“I’m not wearing any underwear. I-I can keep them on i-if,” Harry groaned against the stiff friction rubbing against him. Louis’ hand had pressed against Harry’s, following his slow blind stroking. He was completely hard by then, and Louis wasn’t about to let Harry feel embarrassed.

“You can take them off.” Louis assured him, free hand running along his hip. “If you want, baby. I want it too.” Harry looked at Louis with hooded eyes, Louis calling him the one thing escaping them both for the past four years. He had his jeans unzipped and halfway down his legs before he could even blink.

Louis had never really compared himself to other men before. He found it terrible for the ego in such a vulnerable position. He had planned on ignoring any observations with Harry as well-- until Harry was straddling his thighs, completely naked and hand running nervously through his hair as the other carefully stroked his straining cock. Louis had no choice but to stare, to note every tensing toned muscle on Harry’s body, hear every gasp like it was a tuned note, and admire how beautiful every inch of him was-- especially _every. inch_.

“I don’t like being stared at, believe it or not.” Harry said, beginning to get restless under Louis’ hypnotic stare.

“I’m sorry. Sorry. I’m just… wow.” Louis reached out and touched Harry’s chest. He drug his hand down to his tensing stomach and wrapped around Harry’s cock. “You’re beautiful.”

“And y-you’re going to fucking kill me.” Harry breathed, mouth hanging open. “Oh shit.” Louis strokes were nearly dry and lazy, but the heat spilling from Harry was far too good to let go.

“Help me with my pants.” Louis said, partially asking. He used one hand to shove his pants down, Harry pulling down on the other side to get the two of them completely undressed. Harry grabbed his underwear and flannel pants in one gentle pull, half of his hips exposed before Louis could catch up. Harry lifted off of Louis to help slide his pants down further, Louis’ hands never leaving Harry’s lower stomach.

With ego crushed, but not necessarily upset, it was obviously Harry was bigger than Louis. Maybe not by much, but he had a bit of length on him. Louis was thicker, his grip needing to be slightly wider than that of the other hand wrapping around Harry.

“Fuck. Oh, f-fuck.” Harry whined, hips bucking into the dry and painful grip. “Shit. Do you have anything? I’m dying over here.”

“Shit, yeah. Yeah.” Louis nodded, twisting his body to reach for his side table. There was lube from a time Louis couldn’t remember, and two loose condoms. His hands froze in the drawer, unsure of what was appropriate to grab: just the lube and almost tell Harry _no_ , or take both and almost be telling Harry what they’d be doing? Louis could feel time escaping him and the moment growing heated-- the sound of Harry desperately spitting in his own hand not helping Louis think any clearer. “What do you want?”

“You give me one and you take the other.” Harry said quickly, left hand holding out and impatiently waving the bottle from the drawer.

“Are you-- you want me to-- Harry, wait.” Things were happening too quickly, and too perfectly. As much as he wanted everything that was happening and being promised, he needed to make sure Harry had caught up with his own mind, heart, and reality in the past few days.

“What?” Harry asked, slick hand drying as he spoke and face twisting again. “What’s wrong?”

“Should we do this?” Louis asked.

Louis looked at Harry, who was unable to fully stop touching himself long enough to take the small bottle from him, and asked himself how he had begun to think of such a question. Louis spit into his hand and reached for his own cock.

“Louis, can we not overthink something for once in our fucking lives?” Harry panted, using his teeth to crack open the cap. “Just fuck me and shut up.”

If there was a list of things Louis wanted to hear in his life, there would be a very long list of three worded sentences from Harry. If there was a list of things Louis never expected to hear from Harry, there was only one thing, three words long: _Just fuck me_.

“I think I can manage that.” Louis nodded, his hand twisting around his length quickly. “Yeah. I can do that. Definitely.”

“Great. Good. I’m glad.” Harry hummed. “Here, back up a little for me.” Harry pushed Louis’ shoulder and tried to ease him back and out from under him without making him lift his hips too far. He took off his glasses and handed them to Louis, silently pointing to the side table.

“What do you need, Harry?” Louis asked, resting himself up on his elbows. Harry’s eyes were fluttering closed and he was settling his knees on the mattress firmly.

“Just sit there.” Harry said. “I can do it.”

“Do it?” Louis echoed, stomach twisting like a crashing wave. “Oh fuck.”

It was unreal to watch. Louis didn’t know what to expect and had never seen anyone finger themselves before. He had done it to others and to himself before, but never taken the entire view in: mouth slack and body restless by its own design. Harry knelt on the bed, Louis sitting in front of him and still slipping his pants the rest of the way off his ankles in the spare moment. Harry lubed up his fingers on his own, quietly and without much acknowledgement from Louis. He wasn’t clueless about what to do with his own body-- and the thought was torture on its own. Louis wasn’t sure if he could handle the thought of every time Harry had done it before, groaning and writhing and coming by himself.

Harry reached behind himself, head leaning back as he bit his lip, exhaling slowly.

“Oh-- _ah_ fuck.” Harry gasped quietly. Louis could watch the flush form on his chest, slowly trickling up to Harry’s neck. He watched Harry’s cock twitch between his legs, flushing in its own right a blushing pink. “S-Shit.”

“I can do it.” Louis said, reaching out and placing a hand on Harry’s thigh. “I’ll do it for you. I can--”

“If you do it,” Harry breathed, his words spaced out as he concentrated. “I’m gonna ask you to finger fuck me until I’m _blind_.” Louis felt his stomach drop  sharply, a forgotten ember flaring in his stomach. “I have to get farther than that.” Harry had thought about having Louis finger him enough to have analyzed the situation. Louis grabbed the lube from beside Harry to pour a drop on his own hand before wrapping it around his cock.

“I’d do that, just so you know.” Louis muttered, slowly stroking himself. If Harry wanted it, he’d do it. He’d at least try. “I’d do it until you were blind.”

“I know.” Harry groaned, arm flexing and stomach muscles tightening. “It’d be so good. Fuck, you’d be so good.”

“You sure you don’t want me to?” Louis felt comfortable teasing Harry, even when he seemed to be half a breath away from falling apart. That was _his_ boy.

“Don’t tempt me. God, please don’t.” Harry whined, his body sinking down on his hand slowly. It slowly gained rhythm against the flexing on his arm and bobbing wrist. Louis watched and matched the pattern, the pressure around his cock trying to match the visual of Harry’s tight ass around his own fingers.

“Look what you’re doing.” Louis said. “You’re tempting _me_.”

“I enjoy having my sight.” Harry panted, a smirk curling his lips. “I barely have any as it is.”

“It’s horrible you can’t see this.” Louis said, voice dragging and rough. “It’s fucking gorgeous.”

Louis shifted and braced himself against the wall. He needed something sturdy to keep him upright and something cold to keep shocking him back to reality. Harry was still kneeling closer to the foot of the bed, an arm reaching behind him and disappearing while another hand now wrapped around his cock. It pumped slow, almost timidly. There was a shyness caused by being in front of Louis suddenly-- one that was quietly abandoned as his mouth hung obscenely open, eyes fluttering closed again. He gasped, body pushing down and knees spreading. They were flushed pink as he strained against his own flexibility, trying to push further and further down the longer he worked, wrist pumping and mouth still wide open and gasping. It was way better than watching it wrap around a cigarette.

“Oh fuck, Harry.” Louis muttered, unsure how much longer he could watch. Harry’s hands were beautiful to follow, but Louis wanted to feel the heat of Harry’s shaking body under his own fingers. He finally began fumbling with the condom he had been flipping between his fingers. He tore it open with his teeth, spitting the corner out before speaking again. “Can you come over here? Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Harry’s eyes fluttered open and his body stiffened, trying to reposition himself. Both hands reappeared, resting nervously on his thighs. His entire body was thrumming and flushed. Louis was straining not to reach out and grab him. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Yeah.” Louis rambled, holding a hand out to Harry. He took it carefully, his fingers wrapping around Louis’ hand with unknown certainty. “Come here, baby.” Louis leaned up from the wall, about to meet Harry halfway. They kissed again, slow and with quiet assurance spoken into each other lips. Louis kept Harry’s hand gripped in one hand while the other reached for his waist, about to ease him onto his back.

“No.” Harry said, placing his hand over Louis chest. He was biting his lip, but there was nothing timid about his expression. “Sit back for me.”

Louis did as he was told.

Harry swung a leg over Louis’ hips, hands resting on his shoulders as he centered himself. Louis stared up at Harry, body trembling and existing entirely outside of itself. His long hair hung in his face, some already sticking to his neck, highlighting the blush coloring his chest and stretching up his neck. Louis could only imagine what he himself looked like. He could feel the flush on his face, hot and constant. He had no time to lower his eyes and look at the rest of himself. Harry was the most beautiful and vulnerable thing Louis had ever seen, and he wasn’t about to let one moment of it slip away.

“You want to do this?” Louis whispered, hands running up and down Harry’s stomach. His hands splayed across his ribs, bracing the boy up as they spoke. Louis left a kiss on his stomach, lips still dragging along his skin as he looked up at Harry, wide-eyed. “Because you don’t have to. We can just lie down, Harry. That’s okay too. Nice and easy.”

“I want to. I want to.” Harry stuttered as he looked down at Louis, flushed and eyes blown. “Fuck I want to-- for you.” His throat bobbed slowly as he swallowed, the words desperate.

Louis smirked, biting his lip again and keeping his eyes set on Harry. “Then do it.”

“Yes.” Harry nodded quickly, breath hitching.

Harry released Louis’ shoulders to reach beneath him. He took Louis’ cock in his hand delicately, the first touch unsure and new. As his fingers slowly wrapped around Louis’ length, and the grip tightened, Louis no longer felt nervous jitters. He no longer felt vulnerable. It felt familiar and white hot, coiling in his stomach as Harry pumped his fist. Louis gripped Harry’s back tightly, fingers pressing in between his ribs and trying not to push Harry down onto his lap before he was ready.

Oh, he would have been blind already.

Harry held Louis’ cock with one hand as the other ran through his hair, pushing his bang back. It was nonchalant and ridiculously mesmerizing to Louis. He looked completely at ease-- all about to ride Louis’ cock. His hand stayed threaded through his own hair as he finally began to sink onto Louis.

Harry was slick and tight, Louis tensing and hands digging deeper into Harry’s back. Louis gasped and was only able to hold his breath as Harry took the rest of him in. Harry’s hand was wrapped in his curls and his face was still, eyes closed and lips only slightly parted. The heat in Louis’ stomach was already tightening as he watched Harry orient himself in his lap, chest rising as he arched his back.

“How does that feel?” Louis asked shamelessly, raking his eyes over Harry’s suddenly frozen body. “How does it feel, baby?”

“ _God_.” Harry’s composure was a sham. He whined outwardly, his hand reaching out to grab Louis’ shoulder with a trembling grip. His voice quaked and he sounded near his own breaking point. “Oh, oh god. Fuck, Louis you--” He hunched forward, his entire body practically hanging over Louis, and pulled his lips into a kiss. “You’re amazing. It feels so good.”

“Just like this?” Louis teased, lifting an eyebrow. Neither of them had moved at all. They were still just situating themselves stationarily. “How about something else?” He rolled his hips up a fraction, changing the angle he was sitting under Harry.

Harry whined again, long and broken. It was way too much for Louis’ ego, seeing Harry already half gone and trying to blink himself back to focus, but he wasn’t going to back down. The only thing he’d allow more was watching Harry fall apart at his _own_ hand. But Louis learned he couldn’t sit still for that.

“Louis, God.” Harry said, puffing out a short breath. His hand still grabbed at his hair, pulling on it as he slowly arched his body again, legs lifting him up from the mattress. Louis reached up to untangle Harry’s hand from his hair.

Louis’ hand ran through Harry’s curls slowly, started at his bang and running down to his ends, brushing over his chest and neck in the process. It kept Louis in his own rhythm as Harry started bobbing up and down on his cock. He moved slow, the pressure slick and new, but didn’t seem settled at all yet. He tested the length of Louis’ cock, pulling out nearly to the tip and then pulling out only halfway. They both found the shorter thrusts fed off their impatience.

“Wow, glad I didn’t just finger fuck you.” Louis said breathlessly, almost nothing intelligent left to say and his mind minutes behind.

“Me too.” Harry breathed, squeezing Louis’ shoulder.  “ _Fuck_ , this is so much better. You feel so good.”

“Look at you,” Louis watched Harry’s legs flex and tense as he lifted himself up and down. “So beautiful, so fucking beautiful.”

“Uh-huh.” Harry whined, taking the praise just as eagerly. “I wanna be. Fucking hot all for you.”

“You always are.” Louis said, his hands running up Harry’s stomach again. “Especially when you’re like this-- fuck. I didn’t think it was possible.”

“Yeah?” Harry breathed, leading Louis toward more compliments. His smirk faltered and went slack as Louis knowingly tilted the angle of his hips. “Oh shit.” He muttered, tone low and quiet.

“What, Harry?” Louis said coyly. “What’s wrong.”

“My vision just spotted.”

Louis took Harry’s twisted gaping mouth as a good sign and continued to adjust his hips under Harry. He watched Harry slide up and down on his cock, trying to angle himself only a slight bit off Harry’s center. As Harry pushed himself back down, the drag of the new angle would bring Harry pulling his hips forward and creating a new slick pressure around Louis’ cock that had his vision changing as his eyes fluttered and rolled back. Their words trailed off after a while, Harry only able to huff and whine as he started pushing himself down onto Louis with more force. He wasn’t sure if Harry was getting close or if he was trying to beat Louis to any change in angle as he sped up. Either way, Louis was no longer complaining. He was sputtering foolish words at Harry and feeding his vulnerable ego with more compliments to his exposed beauty, both in breathlessly smooth features, and in riding his cock like he had been doing it his whole life.

“God, Harry. I can’t believe how fucking good you look riding me. You’re amazing, baby. Oh _shit_.” Louis had never spoken so many forbidden things at once, coming on just as strong as Harry. He wasn’t easing up in his harsh rhythm, his quiet panting turning into steady, short grunts. “Harry, are you okay?” Louis asked. His face was contorting but he seemed mostly to be in pain than pleasure. “Baby, you can stop if you need. It’s alright, you’re still doing so good.”

“D-Don’t worry about me.” Harry was practically in tears, hands bracing against the wall behind Louis as he continued to ride him. His thighs were shaking and his movements were starting to become less effective for his own sake; he couldn’t lift himself high enough off of Louis to get the proper friction when he came down.

“Harry, come on, I’ve got you.” Louis said, pushing on Harry’s lower back and trying to make him lean back, pulling his hips toward him. “Come on, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

Harry whined in slight disagreement, his pace slowing to a complete stop as Louis repositioned himself under Harry. He placed his feet flat on the mattress and stretched his back out along the bed, his shoulders still resting against the wall. He pushed his feet into the mattress for leverage and slowly started fucking Harry himself. The change was immediate.

Louis’ headrush was like the first time he ever smoked a cigarette, light and spinning but utterly blissful. He thrust slow and steady, but deep. Each time, he bottomed out before sliding back out. He panted with each thrust, the rhythm audible in the room between the two of them. Harry leaned forward, his hands bracing against the wall again the best they could as they began shaking too. His head hung down between them, his hair framing his face perfectly over Louis. He looked up at him in amazement, Harry so expressive and open, and only for Louis.

“Holy shit. H-Holy shit.” Harry gritted, teeth clenched and eyes tightly pressed closed. “Oh _shit_ shit shit. Fuck, Louis, don’t stop. Don’t.”

“Yeah, baby? That it?” Louis asked, reaching up to stroke his hair back behind his ear. “You there?”

“Fuck. Yes yes yes. Please, Louis, please don’t stop. Please.” Harry was in tears, hands reaching out and trying to grab Louis blindly. “Oh god _please_. Keep fucking me.”

“I won’t, Harry. I am.” Louis whispered, trying to calm Harry’s frantic pleas. “You’re doing so good, Harry. God, I can’t stop looking at you.”

“Please don’t leave me like this.” Harry whispered, hiccuping and holding Louis’ face tightly, fingers curling around the hair behind his ears. “Oh god please don’t. I’m so close, so close, Louis. Please don’t.” He was convinced Louis would stop suddenly, leaving Harry hanging over the edge of an abyss but with no way to jump. He scrambled to hold onto Louis with both hands, touching his face, chest, and shoulders restlessly. He couldn’t seem to do anything else with them.

“I’m not going anywhere, Harry.” Louis said, lifting a hand from Harry’s back to wrap around his cock. It was slick already, Louis’ fist sliding down over it with dragging and deserved friction. “Right here. Right here for you.”

“Fuck fuck-- Louis, oh fuck.” Harry hiccuped at the pump of Louis’ fist and still-firm thrusts. “Shit.” He gasped, his entire body tensing and fingers curling into fists. They rested on Louis’ shoulders, keeping him centered as his eyes finally blew open. His pupils were wide and practically overtaking their hazed green. “Are you my boy?”

“I’m your boy, baby.” Louis whispered, his own words getting caught in his throat. His stomach was tight and the heat was coiling in on itself. “I’m your boy.”

“Fuck-- Oh my _god_.” Harry cried, biting his lip to try and shut himself up. Louis leaned up to kiss him, his tongue slipping between his slick and swollen lips to separate them again. He gasped against his mouth, a high-pitch whine slipping from him. “I’m your boy. I’ve always been, Louis. Please-- Oh fucking god please please please.” Harry begged, trying to ride Louis again. His legs were trembling and his entire body was out of time with itself. He couldn’t do it.

Louis splayed his hands out over Harry’s back, trying to give him balance before either of them came. Harry was the most volatile and dangerous, his entire body jerking as he wept, hands still on Louis’ shoulders, but grip weakening. Louis could feel the white heat rising in his body, slowly crowding his vision. He couldn’t stop, not before Harry. He didn’t want to leave him that way; standing at the edge and then yanking him back.

Louis focused himself, tightening his jaw and tensing his breaths as he kept thrusting upward. His toes were hanging over the edge, the open air so inviting for a long, long tumble down. He curled his toes back and pulled Harry closer-- pulled him down on him to meet his hips.

“Louis, you feel so good. I’m so close. Please, don’t stop. Don’t--” Harry’s cry cut out and his entire body ran rigid, a ripple shooting through him. His lips parted at first, barely enough to breathe, until he started coming, ribbons falling on Louis’ chest. His mouth hung open like his jaw lost its hinge. His entire body went lax in Louis’ hands, thighs shaking as they finally gave out under his continued weight. He sank down on Louis’ hips again and his entire body pulsed. He collapsed backwards, his one arm reaching back to brace against the mattress between Louis’ legs. It offered Louis the view of Harry stretched out and panting, chest rising and falling frantically, like he was in danger of blacking out.

Louis knew he nearly was. He could barely see as he tried to find friction again, Harry unable to lift himself off of Louis and give him any leverage. His foot was hanging over the edge, he just had to step off. He just had to let himself fall.

“Harry, baby, come on. Come on, I need you.” Louis breathed, looping an arm around his waist. He held him firm and tried to find the pulse again, Harry whining and hips weakly rolling back and forth. “Oh, Harry. You’re so beautiful, baby. I’m so close. Look at you.” He tried to encourage Harry to stay with him for just another moment-- another step-- he was already so sensitive, his body pulsing forward every time Louis tried to slide in or out of him. He was tightening around Louis’ cock, the change in pressure and slow circular roll of Harry’s hips different stimulation different than what he had been used to.

He tried to keep it up for as long as Harry could seem to handle it, more openly whining and moaning. It wasn’t enough. The thrusts were shallow and Harry was getting restless. Louis could feel himself stepping away from the edge.

“Harry, how are you, baby? I’m almost there.”

“Come on.” Harry panted, reaching a hand out to grab Louis’ shoulder. His legs shifted beside Louis, moving to stretch outward. His entire body began to lean back, trying to find the mattress. “Fuck me. Keep going.”

“It’s too much for you, Harry.” Louis could see Harry’s eyes were closed and his body was all but lost to its own fatigue. He wasn’t going to push Harry when he was already falling. As Harry fell back, Louis made the motion to pull out, the first chance to slide back almost too shocking for both of their systems. Luckily, Louis had to stop to find his center. Foot dangling over the edge.

“No. No you can’t stop now.” Harry whined, fingers digging into this shoulder. “Louis, I’m-- please.” Louis looked at Harry’s cock and saw it flushed pink and hard again. Not nearly as much as it had been the first time, but there was no denying that Harry was already circling again.

“Look at you.” Louis laughed softly, unable to contain it. “You can’t get enough, can you?”

“Don’t you dare stop, Louis. Please.” Harry said, voice breaking.

Louis eased Harry all the way back onto the mattress. They repositioned so Harry laid along the bed, head closer to the foot of the bed than the side. His arms reached out, one braced against the wall and the other grabbing the comforter. Louis’ pulled up one of Harry’s legs, muscles twitching and exhausted, and let it hook over his shoulder. He tested the keep of his comforter with his feet before putting all his weight into the thrust, bottoming out on the first one. The friction was back, perfect and in sync with the jittering wavelength inside Louis, slowly bubbling and coiling and rising and _crashing_.

“Oh fucking shit. Oh God. Yes.” Louis gasped, hips snapping forward and hitting Harry hard. Their skin slapped together loudly and shockingly, both of them going still. They both seemed to gauge the reaction of the other, Louis holding Harry’s thighs firmly and trying not to push him farther up the bed, and Harry nodding quickly and slowly rocking his hips. Louis pulled back out and did slow but deep and forceful thrusts until he felt the curling waves in his stomach finally starting to rise to impossible heights, unable to recover or back down.

Louis was contained as he came, only shoulders shaking as he could feel the white hot heat flooding his body finally pulse its way down to rest in his stomach again. He wanted to keep his eyes closed, but he forced them to stay focused on Harry’s, looking down at him wordlessly speaking in tongues.

Harry’s mouth was moving but nothing was happening. His hands moved again frantically, but only on the bed and wall. Louis reached between his legs again and wrapped a hand around his cock. He barely had to run up his length once before Harry tensed again, a string of come running down Louis’ fist. He was still silent but unable to hide the hitch of his breath and hiccup of shock.

There were tears still on his cheeks, and running down onto the bed sheets as Louis slowly pulled out. Harry’s leg laid flat on the mattress, spent and exhausted. Louis slowly rolled off the condom and tied it before aiming for the trash. He barely checked if it went in before laying out beside Harry.

Harry placed one arm over his eyes, his other going across his chest as he slowly turned away from Louis. Louis was resting on his elbow with his back pressed against the wall and slowly lost sight of Harry’s face. All he could see were his shoulders bunching and shaking steadily.

“Harry?” Louis was hesitant to place any hand on Harry. “Harry, are you okay?” Harry gasped, his arm falling down to rest over his chest, and revealed a wide smile as he began laughing. “What? Why are you laughing?” Louis asked, shoving him playfully. He kept a grip on Harry’s arms, making sure he didn’t shove Harry off the bed.

“I can’t see you, but I just know you’re smirking.” Harry said, squinting. “And I hate that you have every right to be.” Louis reached over Harry to grab his glasses. He let Harry see that he was right.

“That worth the four year wait?” Louis joked, his hand resting on Harry’s chest as he adjusted his glasses, pushing his slick hair out of his eyes. His heart was pounding, jumping up to meet Louis’ hand.

“Don’t fucking gloat.” Harry muttered. “It’s kind of hot.”

“Third time’s the charm?”

“Shut. up.” Harry was laughing again, but tried to look at Louis with a tight expression. It faded quickly as Louis leaned closer to him, biting his lip. He was far less coy than his depicted inked counterpart hanging above them. Harry’s face went slack and his eyes were able to find new focus on Louis’ own exhausted face.  “You know I would.”

“How about we give you a rest first.” Louis chuckled, kissing Harry. He kissed each cheek too before pulling away, getting the stray tears resting there. Harry looked embarrassed, biting his lip as Louis wiped away the left-behind tear tracks with his thumbs. Louis laid his head down beside Harry, eliminating any distance that allowed his shame to fester. “I’ve got nowhere to go, do you?”

“I only left my dorm to come see you.” Harry admitted, already blinking slowly. “I saw the snow and I just… I knew I had to come over and tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Louis asked. His fingers carefully carded through Harry’s hair, tucking pieces behind his ear and away from his neck.

“I’ve always been in love with you.”

“I’ve loved you since that first fucking snowflake.” Louis admitted, thinking of Harry’s impressive half-committed sketch. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Harry closed his eyes and grinned, curling himself closer to Louis.

They were a few levels of disgusting, sheets sticking to them and sweat cooling on their skin, but they held onto each other tightly, as if the chance was fleeting. The bed was a bit thin for both of them and Louis pulled Harry in closely to his body, hands splaying across his shoulders. Harry rested his cheek against Louis’ chest, muttering softly to the heartbeat he heard pounding inside. Their legs slotted together and pressed their stomachs against each other’s, Harry’s still somewhat sticky. Harry’s arms were folded up against his chest, hands tucked under his chin as they quietly settled into each other.

Harry was exhausted and still trembling, but he was warm and soft against Louis’ hands and chest. He tried to speak again to Louis but barely made it past the first word before slipping further into fatigue. His eyes were closed and he was relaxed and beautiful. Harry fit perfectly into Louis’ arms, and it nearly kept Louis up for the rest of the afternoon.

He didn’t want to dream. What was the point?

* * *

**Thursday. 11 January.**

“Louis?”

“Hmmm?”

“Louis.”

“Wha?”

“ _Louis_ _William_!”

“Yes!” Louis grumbled, groaning against the sudden loud noises confronting him. The sun was bright and casting a burning shine over his blankets. He kept his eyes closed. A heavy object plopped onto his chest. It was loudly screaming some cheerful tune at him. “What the fuck…”

“Answer your phone.” Harry grumbled, tapping the screen as it continued to vibrate on Louis’ chest. “Please god answer your phone before I throw it out the window.”

“Just let it go to voicemail.” Louis muttered, rolling back onto his side and letting his phone slip down to the bed between them. Harry had rolled onto Louis’ arm, but Louis could also feel Harry’s sweetly tucked under him as well.

“He’s called back twice.” Harry said, grabbing the phone and handing it to Louis’ free hand. “Please answer it.”

“Fine.” Louis sighed, swiping it open before checking the caller. He blinked at the bright morning light and gave his first full look of the day to Harry, half-awake and lazily smiling at him. “Hello?”

“Louis! Pick up when I call! Where are you?” Niall asked quickly. Louis could hear a calm voice telling Niall to stop pacing.

“I’m in bed. Sleeping.” Louis said, rolling his eyes for Harry. “Why?”

“Harry’s not answering any of his texts-- and Liam went to his dorm and he hasn’t answered.” Niall said. He was genuinely concerned, and it was a sweet thing to hear all things considered, but it took on far less importance when Harry’s slow, lazy hands began running across Louis’ stomach. His hands moved across his skin and seemed to play with the sunbeam streaming down onto them.

“I’m sure Harry’s fine.” Louis said. Harry perked up, one eye opening, as he moved his head closer to the phone to hear. “He’s probably just sleeping.”

“Have you heard from him though?” Niall asked. “Is he okay?”

“Yes.” Harry whispered, nodding quickly.

“I text him yesterday for a bit.” Louis lied. “He’s just fine.”

“A bit sore actually, thank you very much.” Harry corrected, holding a finger up as if to take the phone. Louis quickly shushed him with a laugh, unable to use any hand to cover Harry’s mouth.

“Are you and Zayn going to be at the Student Center today? H-How’s the snow?” Louis asked trying to act nonchalant and not at all rushed to end their call.

“They salted the sidewalks so it shouldn’t be too bad. We’re heading over in like an hour if you want to meet for coffee as always.” Niall answered, already calming down. “Then we can try Harry again maybe.”

“Great. And I’ll get Harry on my way over don’t worry. I’ll see what’s wrong.”

“You will?”

“Yeah. It won’t be a problem.” Louis said, biting his lip and quietly laughing. “Okay, Niall. See you soon.”

“Bye.”

Louis locked his phone and tossed it toward the end of the bed. Harry’s foot kicked it nearly to the edge. It was going to be impossible to leave their moment. They were tucked in each other’s arms and warmly nestled under a shared blanket, bodies trying to melt back together. Louis watched Harry blink slowly, trying to focus Louis’ face in their closeness, adjusting to see clearly. It was an usual sight for Louis. It see something so unfamiliarly beautiful that early in the morning. He couldn’t imagine seeing something similar, but completely out of focus.

Louis pressed a soft kiss against Harry’s lip, trying to let him rejoice in the moment without needing his clear vision.

“Good morning, Louis.” Harry muttered against his lips. Their bodies were still aching, barely able to wake far beyond the heavy, weighted heat that came from deep sleep. “Please tell me ‘getting Harry on my way over’ doesn’t actually involve going out in the snow.”

“Niall wants to see you at coffee.” Louis sighed. “They’re worried about you.”

“I’m not.” Harry shrugged. “I’m doing quite well.”

“I wasn’t going to tell Niall that over the phone. He’d have a stroke.” Louis said, running his hand through Harry’s knotted hair.

Harry laughed and hid his face in Louis’ shoulder, his nose brushing Louis’ neck gently as he settled against him. His hand ran up from Louis’ stomach to his chest, fingers resting over his collarbone and thumb at the base of his throat. Harry seemed to be resisting the urge to trace the letters of Louis’ chest piece.

“How are you?” Harry asked quietly. His breath was light against Louis’ neck, his words timid.

“Good… I kind of don’t know what to do with myself actually.” Louis admitted. “I mean, before, I wouldn’t want to get out of bed for a completely different reason. But now, I’m quite content.”

“What’s that mean?” Harry turned his head to look up at Louis. His hand moved up to hold the side of his face, fingers lining the bottom of his chin. “Is that where you were most of the break? Here?”

“Yeah. I slept most of this break away.” Louis realized. “Or at least spent it lying here.” Sometimes, he wasn’t really asleep, but dreams were involved.

“That’s not because of me, was it?”

“No. Other people don’t cause regret.” Louis promised. Harry was still looking up at him, although his eyes were slowly moving across all of Louis relaxed early morning features. Louis was admittedly doing the same. “I just thought I had fucked everything up so royally-- and I thought I was ruining your relationship too. I just couldn’t get out of my own way.”

“Kind of glad you didn’t. I ran right into you. So to speak.” Harry said with a soft laugh. His thumb traced over Louis’ lips absentmindedly. “You’re the only one who stood up for me.”

“You were doing just fine on your own. I think I made it worse on _multiple occasions_.”

“No. When you told him about the football team, at first I was really annoyed, but telling him was the most therapeutic thing to go wrong.” Harry laughed again, but it seemed to be at himself. His eyes were still looking at Louis’ lips but he didn’t seem to be focused on them. “When I called you that night, I kinda hoped you were going to answer and tell me what to do. If I was supposed to break up with someone who thought… thought I _deserved_ that, or just keep going. I mean, it’s like I trusted you more than myself.”

“After Elliot, I was constantly surprised you still trusted me.” Louis admitted. “That should have ended us.”

“If you don’t think I knew why you did it the _minute_ I met Zayn. I wasn’t even mad. I could just feel everything clicking into place but…”

“You had tea in your hand for someone else.” Louis avoided speaking Casper’s name when Harry was so tightly wrapped in his arms. “But, it’s over. It all worked out. We worked out.”

“We circled back after all.” Harry kissed Louis gently.

Their mouths moved together lazily. Their hands ran over each other’s hips to press against their backs, soon retiring to hold the other closely. Their foreheads pressed together as they shared the pillow. They fought the urge to go back to sleep. Niall would call again anyway.

“We should really get going.” Louis muttered. Harry groaned in disagreement, but released Louis as he pushed himself up in bed. They didn’t want to leave. Leaving meant that it was real. As much as Louis and Harry wanted it to be, they also wanted it to stay between them for as long as it could. They had so many unspoken silences, they didn’t want any to get lost again before they were ready. “You want to shower first?”

“Should I?” Harry laughed, rolling onto his back. Louis ignored the obvious and ran a hand through Harry’s spread hair, scrunching his nose as he nodded. “Yeah, I’ll go first, _I suppose_.” Harry got out of bed slowly. As he stood, he braced his weight back on the mattress, his legs shaking from unrecovered soreness. He cast a look over his shoulder at Louis, trying to hide his unabashed laughter.

Harry knew where most of the things in Louis’ room were, able to shuffle over to his dresser and grab towels for himself before Louis could even offer. He grabbed Louis’ key before wrapping himself up in a towel and walking to the bathroom. Louis was left to flop back in bed and stare up at the ceiling. He expected to blink and wake up to the blizzard’s loud, whipping winds again. He’d open his eyes again with the burning need for home, and a cigarette would be the cause of the buzz under his skin.

Thankfully, Louis had really been awake the whole time.

Harry was only gone for about ten minute before coming back in Louis’ room. He walked in shaking out his hair in one towel as another was tucked around his waist. After drying himself off, Harry gave Louis the towel to take with him. Harry stood, naked again, in Louis’ room while he dried his hair. And he expected Louis to leave willingly.

Luckily, Louis had gotten proficient at effective fast showers in the past week or so and was back in his room before Harry was fully dressed. He had his jeans pulled back on and his wet hair pulled up into a tight bun, but no shirt to be seen. He was standing in front of Louis’ closet, arms crossed.

“There a problem?”

“Mind if I borrow a shirt? Mine’s a bit wrinkled at the moment.” Harry turned to point to the pile of fabric at the foot of the bed.

“You want to wear one of my shirts to breakfast, early doors?” Louis said, stepping up beside Harry. He held his towel around his waist, looking at Harry with a lifted eyebrow.

“Should I not?” Harry asked, looking at him. Harry pretended he wasn’t startled, his eyes intently trained on Louis’ eyes and nowhere else. “Because I think going in a wrinkled shirt that may or may not be dirty isn’t exactly subtle.”

“And going in my shirt is?” Louis reached past Harry to grab a pair of underwear from his drawer.

“We’ve totally done it before.” Harry said with a laugh. “I’ve gone on a _date_ in one of your shirts before.”

“That’s right. Don’t know _why_ you guys broke up.” Louis said.

“I thought we were getting along great. Until I realized I needed the faint smell of tobacco and _Gain_ to just get through a date.” Harry muttered. Louis quickly stepped into his underwear before stepping up to Harry again.

“Is that why you kept stealing them? You said your washing machine was broken.”

“I lied.” Harry admitted sheepishly. “I did quite a bit of that.”

Harry had no idea. Louis' lying streak had lasted so long, he wasn’t entirely sure if Harry knew just how much he drove Louis crazy. He’d lied about the effect of every new hairdo, every new accessory, his choker, his high-heeled boots, his tight(er) jeans. Did Harry even believe Louis when he told him the truth, that he was the most beautiful boy? His most beautiful boy.

“I think you should wear this one.” Louis said, reaching into his closet and grabbing a hanger. The shirt was simple and gray, the sleeves sewn cuffed and the bottom seam unfinished. “You can keep it-- as a new smock shirt or something. You’ve quite ruined your white one.”

“And I’ll ruin this one.” Harry countered. “I’m quite a messy painter. You know that.”

“And I’m very much in love with my messy painter. And want him to have a little tobacco and detergent when he starts painting for the National Art Gallery.” Louis tossed the hanger onto the bed and rolled the shirt up around the collar. He placed it over Harry’s head, letting the shirt hang off his neck.

“It’s a church.” Harry laughed. “My painting will be seen mostly by _children_ who can’t read or appreciate that I made the scheme complementary colors to the cathedral's stained glass. So, not really that impressive.”

“Ruin the shirt.” Louis said, kissing Harry’s cheek.

“Thank you.” Harry tugged the shirt the rest of the way over his body, smoothing the collar around his neck. It clung tightly to Harry’s shoulders but hung comfortably around his torso before catching and stretching a bit around Harry’s hips.

“Fits nice.” Louis said, biting his tongue. It wasn’t a lie if Louis simply dialed back the truth. “Fits really nice.”

“Thank you. But,” Harry said turning to look at Louis, still nearly naked. He pretended to study Louis’ body with a scrupulous eye. “We _have_ to work on your outfit. It’s a little… _loud_.”

Louis shoved Harry playfully, getting him out of the way of his closet. Louis grabbed the first shirt he saw with long sleeves and pulled it over his chest, fixing the collar as it curved across his chest piece. He used the motions to ignore Harry’s giggling protest that a shirt wasn’t an improvement. He continued even as Louis pulled jeans on, starting to bundle up for the cold weather. Harry resigned only when Louis’ phone began ringing again. Louis sent it straight to voicemail and grabbed his snow boots.

They trudged through the drifts of snow to relieve Niall of his building stress at the Student Center. Before, Harry circled them back to his dorm and brought his sketchbook-- and a coy smile-- with him. Louis left his cigarettes and lighter on his dresser. The walk was slow, Harry whining every time they had to drag their feet through more than a few inches of snow; his legs were tired already. Louis held his hand and kept him balanced through the taller drifts just by the Student Center’s front doors.

“I hate you right now.” Harry said once they stepped inside. “You’re buying me tea.”

“Is that the going price?” Louis laughed and placed his hand on Harry’s back as they walked over to the cafe. “Two American dollars?”

“Plus tax.” Harry added, crossing his arms and holding his sketchbook against his chest.

Louis kept his hand on Harry’s back as he ordered their teas. The campus was still in hibernation, especially after the snow, and there were no eyes to see them. No one to hear the two of them laughing about the night before. No one to catch their quick kiss. When they walked back to their usual seats, though, their hands were kept to themselves. It’d be their secret at least for a little bit longer.

They’d never stopped being in love with each other, but they could definitely stop being so blatant about it. At least for ten minutes or so.

“Good morning! There you are!” Niall said, waving them over. Zayn was sitting beside him on the floor, hands wrapped around the neck of his guitar while Niall strummed. “Beautiful snow, right?” The question tried to coddle them both, unsure of their moods. Harry walked slower, trailing behind Louis. He pretended his tea was overfilled, the hot water in danger of spilling.

“Perfect.” Louis said with a grin. “I love the courtyard when it snows.”

“I know! First snow of the winter.” Zayn added. “I’ve been waiting.”

“Me too.” Louis agreed, walking to his typical seat on the floor. He folded his legs up underneath himself and blew on the steam coiling up from his tea cup. Harry finally caught up and sat on the couch behind Louis. His momentum was far slower, easing onto the seat with a slight twitch of his eye. “It’s beautiful.” He winked at Harry before finally sipping his tea.

“How was your night?” Niall asked, his hand moving independently and keeping the song moving between him and Zayn.

“Uneventful.” Louis shrugged. He avoided Niall’s gaze and stared down towards the front doors. Louis was able to ward off his own exposing smile by waving to Liam as emerged down the hall. He looked relieved to see both Louis and Harry, even from a distance. “A little stir crazy, honestly. Harold, you?” Harry looked up from opening his sketchbook, eyes still looking hazed and blown. He scrunched his nose and shrugged as well.

“Eh, did some drawing. Got a horrible wrist cramp.” Harry flexed his right hand, cracking his wrist. “Think I’m a bit out of practice.”

“Know the feeling; I know my hands still hurt if I play too long.” Niall noted, recoiling from the sound. “I can’t imagine how much your wrist must hurt from drawing for _hours_. Careful.”

“Oh, I’m not worried.” Harry said, waving Niall off with another wrist crack. “What’s a few _long_ pieces, right?”

“Really think your wrist can take all that work?” Louis muttered, trying to keep the smirk off his face.

“What else are warm ups for?” He said, eyebrow cocked. He placed his tea cup on the armrest as he adjusted his book on his lap.

“Your warm ups are still great work.” Niall cut in, smiling brightly. “Some Rourke kids’ portfolios aren’t anywhere near your _doodles_.”

“Thank you.” Harry replied, biting back his smile. “It’s all in the dexterity.” Louis coughed, hot water dripping down his chin. Harry rolled his wrist before picking up his pencil and slowly sketching. The lines were exaggerated and so was his coy smile.

“What is?” Liam asked, stepping up while shaking the snow out of his hair. “What are we talking about?”

“Harry’s wrist technique.” Zayn responded, focused on Niall’s guitar. “Drawing, I mean.”

“Thrilling. Is that what you ignored me for this morning?” Liam said, plopping next to Harry. Harry nodded, hoping to avoid the subject with a laugh, but Liam responded by pushing him playfully.

Harry tipped over with ease, eyes blowing wide as he reached out to brace his fall on the cushion. His face tightened and Louis could see the soreness rippling through his body. He acted just as surprised as everyone else as Harry gasped and bit down on his lip, muttering a few swears to himself. Louis acted as if he’d never heard something so obscene before.

“What was that?” Liam asked, slapping Harry’s back. “I didn’t shove you that hard.”

“I-I slipped on some ice this morning.” Harry explained, exhaling slowly as he sat up. “Really fucked myself up on it.”

“Those ice patches are a bitch.” Louis laughed, offering Harry his tea. “The campus should really salt a bit more beforehand.”

“Who knew it was supposed to be eight inches. Of snow.” Harry said, situating himself in his seat. He tried crossing his legs but went back to letting them stretch out in front of him.

“Dude, there’s like a foot of snow outside.” Liam said, taking the cup from Louis next.

“After eight it really doesn’t make a difference.” Harry said, rolling his eyes at Liam.

Harry went back to his sketchbook, flipping for an empty page loudly. It was the only thing between them as they all sipped their morning drinks. Niall used his free hand to drink from his ceramic mug, other hand still strumming for Zayn’s chords. Liam took Harry’s cup as well and sipped it before placing it on the floor. He leaned on the armrest and looked over Harry’s shoulder as he continued to harshly paged through his book.

“You alright over here?” Liam teased. He rested his chin on Harry’s shoulder and tried to catch glimpses of his work.

“Working on more mural art?” Zayn asked slowly. His focused was split between Harry and the melody he was supporting with Niall.

“Oh. No, I’m just about finished that. I recently uh, had a lot of time on my hands obviously so, I finished ahead of schedule.” Harry said, twisting to look at Liam. “They’re revealing it to the church this Tuesday after first day of classes. If anyone wants to go.”

“Of course we do.” Niall replied quickly. “Group date to see your installment!”

“Group date!” Louis echoed, giving Harry an exaggerated yet supportive thumbs up.

“It’s a church mural, not a museum.” Liam corrected, gently patting Harry’s back.

“We’ll still be there. Wouldn’t miss this moment for you.” Louis assured Harry. He had to speak more on the behalf of the group than himself. Harry already knew Louis would be there. He’d be wearing him as he completed the final touches.

“Thanks, Love.” Harry beamed as he looked at his friends. He glowed in the morning sun and fluorescent overhead lighting. He adjusted his glasses before smoothing out the first empty page. He grinned at the blank white space. Finally, a bit bigger than a yellow sticky note.

The slow guitar melody soured and Zayn’s hands flopped down to his lap. The distractions had wobbled his focus and he lost the song. Niall laughed quietly, slipping his hand around the guitar neck and finishing the song. Zayn reached around and playfully slapped the strings, trying to throw Niall. He finished with a flourish on the strings and a defiant smile in Zayn’s face.

Louis wasn’t jealous. He no longer saw any lack of courage in the existence of fear. They were just two people, paths having overlapped long ago, no longer unsure if they wanted to be separate anymore. It was sweet. It was familiar. It was enough.

“So, what did you two do yesterday?” Liam asked Niall and Zayn. He seemed to still be at odds with what he was seeing. It was always the hardest to believe the truth in something you’d been seeing the whole time.

“We watched TV mostly.” Niall shrugged, putting his guitar down beside him. As he answered, Louis tried to lean over and see Harry’s work. Harry pulled the book up and shook his head secretively, mouthing “ _not yet_ ” as his eyes darted between page and subject.

“He got snowed in at my place so it was an easy day. Whole lot of nothing.” Zayn added, placing his arm around Niall’s shoulders. Louis turned and pretended he didn’t feel Harry’s eyes dragging over him.

“Yeah, we caught this documentary about the pyramids which was interesting.” Niall said. “Then something about the Arctic Circle-- very appropriate.”

“So you’re telling me, during a blizzard, you two just watched something on _National Geographic_ and called it a day?” Liam asked, shaking his head. “This is the scandalous information you’ve hid from us since the summer?”

“Sounds better than my day. You had something to watch at least.” Louis said. “I had the _hardest_ time saying entertained yesterday.”

Harry shot Louis a look over his glasses. “You’re unbelievable. Is history of music not _thrilling_?”

“I prefer to just play the music myself. But, haven’t been given the chance.” Louis held his hand out in front of him, wiggling his fingers. “Could be a secret prodigy, but I’d never know.”

Niall snorted. “I’ve seen you in front of a piano. You’re terrible.”

“Excuse me.” Louis tisked. “I am not.”

“Yes. You came with me to the practice room last year around finals. Harry played better and I had to put the colors on the keys for him.” Niall said, shaking his head. “You were _terrible_.”

Harry looked up from his work, smirk pulling at his lips. “Bigger hands.” He muttered, wiggling his own fingers in Louis’ face.

“Don’t make me pour this tea in your face. Blind you in a fucking minute.” Louis teased, raising his eyebrows.

Harry snorted out a giggle, leaving the other boys to look around in confusion, before ducking and getting back to his drawing. Harry had his sketchbook balanced on his knees as he drew quickly. His pencil skated around the page and made long arcs in the space.  As he turned the book, his eyebrows slowly furrowed, but only in concentration.

“What are you two talking about over there?” Zayn asked, eyeing Louis. His smirked wasn’t as neutral as Louis hoped; it must have been giving away a few secrets. Zayn was the only one paying attention. “What are they doing over there, Liam?”

“I can’t tell-- stop covering it, Harold!” Liam was straining to see what Harry had hidden under the arm braced over the top of his page. “What are you doing? Are you doing caricatures again? I fucking hated mine-- my forehead is not that big.”

“It was when you shaved your head.” Harry muttered.

“Go fuck yourself.” Liam said. It was a visual far too graphic for Louis at ten in the morning. He could feel his ears burn and his cheeks flush as he drank steadily from his cup. Part of him wanted to want a cigarette, but he knew they’d be obsolete. The weight sitting on his shoulders and draining into his coiling stomach wasn’t something he wanted to burn away. Louis preferred to have a set of trusted, warm, _large_ hands remove it one caress at a time.

“Is it another caricature, Harry?” Niall asked. “You know I kept mine.”

“No, no it’s not. I’m just working on something new. Just another one of those days, you know? Have to get it out of my head.” Harry shrugged and rubbed his finger along a line, blending it with great care.

Out of his head. Louis Tomlinson-- fuck-up extraordinaire; previously in a fake relationship; man who unknowingly fell further in love with someone who was taken; a once embarrassing eighteen year old with a thick Doncaster accent and no concept of American traditions, but an even worse knowledge of flirting, _that_ Louis Tomlinson-- was on Harry’s mind. It was difficult to comprehend that Louis had probably been there longer than the past few hours. Louis couldn’t believe it, but knew it wasn’t a lie.

“What’s stuck in there? Let’s see.” Liam said, reaching out and grabbing the book.

“Liam, don’t!” Harry said, yanking the book back. “It’s private.”

“Oh, what’ve you got over there?” Niall laughed. “He’s blushing! What are you doing?” Louis pressed his lips together and lifted his tea cup to his mouth.

“Let’s see!” Liam grabbed the book, pushing Harry back and keeping him at arm’s length. Harry flopped against the back of the couch, wincing and soon covering his face with both of his hands. “Oh. Oh _shit_.”

Liam let the book fall back and reveal itself to the rest of the group. The page was littered with smudged sketches of a long torso, stretched in motion. Hands appeared on the page, resting on legs that looked _horrifically_ exhausted, even on paper. One of the torsos was extended long enough to have a collar bone, and a simple phrase running below it: _it is what it is_.

“Jeez, Harry. What’s with the porn? What did _you_ do last night?” Liam cried, tossing the book back at Harry’s lap.

“I told you. Stayed inside. Worked on some sketches.” Harry placed his hands over his work as the rest of the group leaned in to see. Louis recognized himself, but acted like he had forgotten, if only to get the rush of remembering it all over again. “I’m practicing my anatomical drawing.”

“It’s really good.” Louis said, quickly clamping his mouth shut. With himself exposed on the page, and Harry the trusted eyes able to see him that way, Louis forgot the surprise he was supposed to be feigning. He was just happy his mouth was finally going to get a body. He could tape it underneath when they got back to his dorm.

“Are you drawing yourself?” Liam asked, cocking an eyebrow. He turned his head and tried to align one of the torsos with a memory behind his eyes. “Or--no. Who _is_ that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Harry said, pulling the book close. “None of your business.”

“Dude is that Casper?” Liam said. He looked at Harry with slight pity and veiled disgust-- if only for the invasion of privacy.

“No! God, no.” Harry said, shaking his head quickly. “No. No, it’s not. I didn’t have-- no.” The thought clashed horrifically with the visuals in front of him and the heat tingling under his fingers.

“Well, go on. Who’s the rebound?” Zayn teased. Niall looked at him with pursed lips, shaking his head. “It’s a fair question! There’s very few people around campus so there’s a chance we know him.”

“It wasn’t a rebound.” Harry said firmly. His jaw tightened and he shifted in his seat with discomfort. The pain crossing his face was different than before. He was clamming up in front his friends, in front of Louis. Harry had been prepared for his and Casper’s relationship to crash and burn far longer than the four of them did; he’d grieved it aloud, alone, and completely. “It wasn’t a rebound.”

“When did you break up with Casper?” Liam said, looking at Harry with a laugh. “Not judging you but, I mean, that’s kind of a rebound, man.”

“It wasn’t!” Harry argued. “I care about him.”

“After one night?” Niall asked.

“No! I--I’ve known him for a while.” Harry said. “We had kind of been talking before I dated Casper and I guess… I guess we finally got things right.”

Slowly, all eyes fell on Louis. He expected to be gawked at, things being shouted at the two of them, but each one looked apologetic. Liam was trying to keep a neutral expression, looking past Harry to Louis with wide eyes. He looked guilty for asking. Zayn was shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose, muttering to Niall who looked the most heartbroken. He hadn’t missed his collison, and he sat there beside Zayn thinking Louis had.

“Oh. Good for you.” Liam said.

“C-Can I see it again? I mean, we were talking about your work. I want to see what you’ve done.” Niall tried his best at band aiding the unwounded situation. Harry looked down at his sketches hidden under his hands and shook his head. “I just want to admire it-- the drawing I mean, not the body. I mean, because that’s your boyfriend-- uh, friend. I don’t mean to--”

“Niall.” Zayn said, placing a hand on his leg. “Stop talking.”

“Trying.” He said, curling his lips in and pressing them together tightly.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, Love.” Louis said, gently touching Harry’s leg. He moved into the touch, resting one foot on Louis’ leg. “If you like him, we will too.”

“I love him.” Harry muttered, looking at Louis with uncertainty. “I’m in love with him.”

“Let me see that drawing.” Zayn said, holding his hand out. He spoke slowly, the gears grating in his head. It was easy to hear in Harry and Louis’ empty silence; there was nothing left unsaid to try and hear from the other.

“No! It’s private.” Harry said, swatting Zayn’s hand away from the corner of the book. As his hand lifted, a portion of the page was exposed for all the new eyes: _it is what it is_ , stretched across a chest shaded in a growing blush from the neck-down, and perfectly frozen in a long cry for their life-- as if they were going to die, or simply go blind.

“Hey this looks familiar, I-” Liam said. He stopped and shot his eyes up to stare at Louis. His eyes tried to find hints of the tattoo along his collar. Louis was glad he had picked a shirt that obliged. “That-- That’s Lou-- That’s _Louis_.”

“Let me see that!” Niall gasped, sliding forward quickly. “Oh my god-- You _didn’t_.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Louis said, holding his hands up. “I mean, I did a little but--”

“Dude, too much! Too much!” Liam cried. “I’m already seeing it.”

“Oh, nothing’s that bad, Liam.” Harry defended. “You’ve seen worse helping me move out of my dorm sophomore year.” Harry slapped Liam’s arm, trying to get him to stop staring at his book.

“Close your mouth, Liam.” Louis laughed, reaching up to push on his chin. “It’s not quite that good of a look on you.”

“So _that’s_ why you didn’t answer your phone?” Niall asked, looking up at Harry. He was stuck in a blur of anger and disorientation. “You had me thinking you were _dead_. Or at least, like, on a flight back to Europe!”

“I-- sorry!” Harry said. “I wasn’t really thinking about you, if I’m being honest.”

“You weren’t?” Louis laughed. “I was.”

“We’re making it a new habit of _not_ thinking of other men in bed.” Harry said quickly under his breath, pressing his lips together in a knowing smirk.

 _Oh_.

Louis wished they hadn’t been surrounded by their friends. Or even sitting in public. Leaving his bed was a terrible mistake.

“Wait wait, so when did this happen?” Zayn asked, waving between them. He moved up to sit beside Niall.

“Was it New Year’s?” Liam asked, giving Louis a stern look. Even through all the liquor-soaked memories, he still remembered having to get physically between them on the dance floor.

“New Year’s?” Harry repeated.  His eyebrows furrowed and he looked at Liam strangely. “What makes you think that? I spent most of that night kneeling in front of a toilet.”

“I think he’s referring to what I said to Casper.” Louis muttered, speaking against his tea cup lip. Harry looked away from the group, back to where he had been standing the Friday before. His entire world had been brought down by the harsh truth he wasn’t ready to face, all at the hands of two people who loved him. It was no surprise Harry didn’t seem to remember.

“It wasn’t then.” Harry said, shaking his head. “Although, thank you for reminding me of that.” Harry placed his hand back on his sketchbook, as if it was going to be thrown again.

“Sorry.” Liam said. He placed his hand on Harry’s back and scrunched his face apologetically. “I just-- I just thought-- so was it yesterday? In the _blizzard_?”

“He was the idiot walking through whiteout conditions.” Louis laughed, looping one arm under Harry’s leg and leaning against it.

“You were the one outside catching a smoke!” Harry countered, nudging him with his leg. “Don’t make me out to be the hopeless romantic one.”

“You just told us you were in love with your rebound.” Liam said, placing his hand on Harry’s back. “I think you are.”

“Hey, you’d be lucky to have me as a rebound.” Louis said, flipping him off. In Louis’ peripherals, Harry’s fingers curled more tightly around his sketchbook. “I’m a catch.”

“Is that why it took you four years to get together? You’re just _such_ a catch?” Niall teased, pushing on Louis’ leg.

It was nearly the reason Louis almost missed Harry; it was too good to be true and he thought he didn’t deserve it. It still was too good to be true, but he was trying to trust it. Trust every glance Louis thought had been a mistake, every grip of his skin, every silent and spoken “ _baby”_. Harry loved him back.

“We should go out tonight.” Zayn suggested. “Or maybe just my apartment. I don’t know what the roads are like.”

“Are you suggesting we all go on a first date together?” Harry asked, laughter shaking his shoulders. Zayn mulled the answer over before nodding. “I’m in.”

“My place then?”

“Sure.” Harry nodded. “Louis, would you be alright being my plus one to Zayn’s house?”

“Let’s see,” Louis hummed. “Going to a dinner at Zayn’s together _and_ leaving with you? Finally.” His birthday party had been a disaster, Harry and Louis meeting up only after the party had ended. It would be nice to share a dinner with their friends, knees touching under the table, and dessert smeared across their faces with even sweeter affection.

“It’s a date.” Harry said, grinning. He leaned over and kissed Louis quickly. The touch was fleeting, but Louis had to bite his lip to try and contain his smile. Harry bit his lip in return, mirroring the sketch Louis was recreating. He winked, but it finally wasn’t a secret. “Pick you up at seven?”

“Yeah.” Louis nodded, looking at Zayn for confirmation as well as trying not to isolate the other three people around them. Zayn nodded, not about to argue. “Seven’s perfect.”

“I’ll be there.” Harry said.

Louis laughed as he finished his tea; that was implying Harry would leave his side during the day.

* * *

The group separated by five o’clock, mostly to let Zayn start cooking for them and for Niall and Liam to tack themselves on as sous chefs. The sun had already gone down and the Student Center had begun to feel insomniatic, like they were all crowded around their textbooks for finals again. Louis had a hard time thinking that had been four weeks ago.

After four years of (slight im)patience though, any period of time goes by quickly.

Louis walked with Harry back to his room, insisting that he didn’t have to go just yet. There was something preoccupied in Harry’s face as they walked across campus. They didn’t speak, but Louis could hear it ringing in his ears incessantly: _rebound_.

“That went well.” Harry said, closing Louis’ door as they both walked in. The bed was still unmade and Harry’s shirt was still a wrinkled mess. “I mean, all things considered.”

“It did.” Louis agreed. “Except for the part you nearly showed the entire group what I looked like naked. I can do it myself, you know.” Louis said, jokingly pulling on his shirt.

“I made it all look good, don’t worry.” Harry said with faux seriousness, stepping up to Louis. He slipped his arms around his waist, hands slipping under his shirt. “I didn’t even draw anything _that_ exciting though. Nothing I wouldn’t want anyone else seeing.”

“Can I see them again? I want to see it again.” Louis said. Harry shook his head and avoided Louis’ eyes. “Hey, what’s the matter? They’re good.”

“I feel really stupid for drawing them now.” Harry muttered, hands still tracing the curves of Louis’ back. Even without noticing, he was drawing Louis. “That was such a stupid thing to have just sitting around. It made me-- made _us_ \-- look awful.”

“Harry.”

“I mean, they were our friends and they just saw--”

“Harry, I’m not upset with you.” Louis said. He debated briefly before continuing to the second part of his sentence. “I’m not Casper.”

“I know.” Harry sighed. “Still, just… did I ruin it?”

“Ruin it?” Louis repeated. He tried to hold off on his laugh to see if Harry would do so first. He didn’t. “What are you talking about?”

“Moving too fast-- I don’t know. It all just clicked so fast for me in the past few days, and after what they were all saying, I’m waiting for you to realize what we’re doing.” The doubt was pouring out of Harry quickly. It dribbled from his lips, rotten and poisonous. Louis had only seen Harry speak that quickly once before, frantic and unstoppable.

“Wait, last night, you actually thought I was going to leave you-- just like that?” Louis tried his hardest to peel the incredulousness from his voice and simpy pose the question to Harry.

“I thought you’d realize it was wrong and just leave.”  Harry muttered, guilt lowering his eyes. It was an unfair disruption in his expression; he didn’t believe he hadn’t done anything wrong. “I know it’s stupid, I just was so overwhelmed and wanted to be good for you and--”

“Harry, please.” Louis cupped Harry’s face, looking at him sweetly. “It’s not stupid. And it’s not wrong. I mean, I know I can’t rearrange your thoughts and get you to see that, but I can promise that hearts and mind work a lot differently. Whatever you feel, whatever you say, I’ll trust you.”

“I love you.” Harry whispered. “I really, really do. Always.” His lips were sweet again.

It was delicate, sincerity running through Louis’ fingers as he held Harry tightly. It was gentle, but Louis couldn’t help but remembering Harry’s desperation the night before. It was a blend of rightful passion and a newly discovered anxiety. He’d been pleading for Louis to keep going, keep pushing him, as if Louis would abandon him. They had a habit of leaving each other to handle their worst on their own. At the time, Harry was trapped between thinking Louis would stop and leave him, and thinking he would have to stop Louis to punish himself alone. But that habit had been broken; they had settled into a new path, far away from any of the ones they left rutted and ruined before.

Harry closed his glazed over eyes and pulled Louis’ in for a kiss. It was eager, even with Harry’s shaking hands. Harry pulled him close, his body pushing forward and against Louis. Harry’s mouth was open, coaxing Louis’ to do the same. He dropped his jaw as Harry’s tongue swiped his bottom lip, mouth hot against Louis’.

“You want to be beautiful again for me?” Louis whispered, grabbing Harry’s face to keep his heat close.

“What?” Harry pulled away. The word jarred him in a way Louis had been blind to before. “What are you talking about?”

“Can I make you feel good? See my boyfriend beautiful--”

“Boyfriend?” The ringing in Louis’ ears stopped. Harry believed him.

“That’s what you call each other when you’ve been in love for four years, right?” Louis said, kissing Harry again. “I’m yours, remember. Always yours.”

“Fuck, I know.” Harry sighed.

They stumbled to press Louis’ back against the bed frame to have better balance as they clutched each other. Harry held the sides of Louis’ neck, his fingers pushing against the back of it and keeping Louis close. Louis’ hands found Harry’s fern tattoos, even in the blind moment, and traced the curve of his hips with observant fingers; there was a lot to learn. Harry parted their lips and exhaled, his forehead resting against Louis’. Louis pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, Harry’s parted lips closing slowly as he tried to chase him. But Louis was gone. With his hands still resting on Harry’s hips, he pulled his body into his. Their legs slotted together and Louis could feel the shared heat between them begin to flood his stomach. Louis trailed down to Harry’s collarbone, taking every detour along Harry’s jaw and neck on the way.

Harry’s moans were pleading; short, soft whines that seemed to slip out without his approval. Louis lost track of his own movements as he listened to Harry, just doing whatever he could think of to hear Harry swear for him.

Louis just wanted to make him feel good, wanted to see Harry writhing and lost in absolutely not thought at all until lying spent in his arms. There was no one Harry had to reason himself to, and Louis wanted to prove it. He was Harry’s boy. He wasn’t a rebound; Harry deserved to enjoy himself without hovering fear or his own internal nagging.

Louis’ fingers knew the track of the fern tattoos and followed it back down the front of Harry’s hips, hand sliding down the front of Harry’s jeans. Louis ducked his head to begin sliding down to Harry’s chest, lips dragging over the taut skin. Louis slipped out of Harry’s hands to slowly sink to his knees. The message seemed to be loud and clear.

Harry grabbed Louis’ face again, trying to keep him still. “D-Don’t we have somewhere to be?” He asked. His eyes were closed and his back was arching in Louis’ hand, but the attempt at responsibility was endearing-- but also a horrible attempt at stalling.

“This won’t take long.” Louis muttered, nipping at Harry’s chest. “I’ll have you sitting in Zayn’s kitchen fashionably late.”

“Y-You know,” Harry started, the last syllable dragging out as Louis’ tongue swiped over one of his nipples. “You know, me telling you that I love you doesn’t require you to do this. R-Really. It’s okay.”

“You say that like I don’t want to.” Louis smirked, looking up at Harry with the coyness he had been using to deflect Harry’s interest for the past few weeks. It looked far better on him this way. “Let me give you something new to draw.”

“W-What?” Harry sputtered.

“Just relax, baby. I’m not going to leave or suddenly or stop or anything. Don’t worry. You’re allowed this.”

“Y-You don’t have to. You don’t have to make up for anything. It was just some stupid comment; I’ll get over it. You’ve done enough.” Harry said. His words faded as they left his mouth, Louis answering with a slowly grip around his hardening cock. “ _Oh_ , okay. Oh god.” His eyes dropped closed and Louis swore Harry was the most beautiful when he was open for him; body tense, but putty in his hands, and mouth hanging open in a broken attempt to speak.

His hands slipped through Louis’ hair as he moved down his body. Louis tested various combinations of biting and carefully placed kisses to see what got Harry’s back arching and hips bucking up the fastest. As it turned out, it took very little. Every combo opened the lock. Harry’s empty mind was in tune with Louis’ and it was like watching Harry experience it all for the first time.

“Oh, wow, baby. You’re fucking beautiful-- so good already.”

“Don’t say it like that.” Harry groaned, one hand going up to push his hair back.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m starting to like this a bit too much already.” He gritted through his clenched teeth.

“That’s the point, Harry.” Louis laughed, fingers playing with the button of his jeans. “What are you worried about?”

“That I’m about to do something stupid.” Harry muttered, hand dropping back down to grab at Louis’ hair.

“No, baby. That’s not true.”

“It is.” Harry groaned. “I’m about to let my boyfriend make me go blind.”

* * *

Harry and Louis, somehow, were dressed and ready for Zayn’s by quarter of seven. They had gotten cleaned up at Louis’ again before heading to Harry’s dorm to get him a change of clothes. He chose a large, smock-like pink shirt with dots, paired with his round gold wire frames and his striped coat. He was loud, outfit screaming down the sidewalk with Louis’ hand in his own. It was his boyfriend, trusted and slowly untainted by his internal resolving conflict.

The walk was pleasant, despite the brisk gusts of wind. Each breath felt cleaner, every step longer, every drift of snow still an untouched white. Louis almost regretted arriving at Zayn’s apartment so quickly, having been enjoying the kindness of the outdoors without a cigarette between his lips or the worry of a long lost love on his mind.  Louis’ lighter and cigarettes were waiting for him in his coat pockets, but he let them rest untouched. They were a comfort, but their company was enough. He didn’t really feel the itch to smoke. He was getting his jitters from a far more addictive source.

Zayn’s apartment door was open as they made their way up the stairs. Harry and Louis knocked lightly before walking in. Niall, Zayn, and Liam were all busy in the kitchen. Niall was managing a few pots on the stove again, trying to stop Liam from screwing with anything; Liam thought he was correctly seasoning something; and Zayn was leaning over, carefully piping periwinkle icing over a perfectly circular cake.

“Happy birthday!” They all cried, turning toward the door.

“What are you guys doing?” Louis laughed, walking in and immediately taking his coat off. He rolled his sleeves up as if he could help-- as if he’d be able to.

“We’ve decided to give you a second birthday party.” Zayn said, pushing icing to the end of the piping bag. “The one you should have had, actually.”

“The cake wasn’t _that bad_ , guy.” Louis joked. He wasn’t going to speak the downfall of the last attempt. Harry had just begun to be split in two different directions then, but he was there in one piece. He took Louis’ hand tightly, leaning his head against Louis’ shoulder.

“And I still didn’t help make it.” Harry said, tisking.

“I did it myself this time.” Zayn said, spinning the serving plate. “It was much better this way.”

“It’s an actual recognizable shape.” Louis said. “Do I really deserve this kind of treatment?”

“On your first day of being twenty-two, of course!” Liam laughed, still being held off by Niall. “You’re the old man now.”

Harry tugged on Louis’ hand to bring him close enough to kiss. He laughed softly beside Louis’ ear. “Why do I always end up dating the older men?”

“We just can’t resist you.” Louis said. “I think it’s the hair.”

“I’ll be sure to cut it then.” Harry laughed, pushing his hair off his shoulder dramatically.

“Careful, Sampson.” Louis reached over and gently threaded his fingers through his hair. Harry tilted his head to let it all hang over Louis’ hand. “Gotta have something to hold on to--”

“Hey, are you good with a knife?” Niall asked, grabbing Harry’s attention. He righted his head quickly, laughing as Louis accidentally yanked it.

“ _Fuck,_ Ow! Uh, yeah. Yeah. I think so?” Harry said, rubbing his scalp. “What am I doing with it? Revenge?” He thumbed over to Louis, waiting for approval.

“Can you cut up that onion for me?” Niall asked. “And Louis, can you grab the tissues for him?” Harry dropped Louis’ hand to flip Niall off with both hands.

“I’m not going to cry. Fuck off.” Harry said. He sat down and slid the cutting board towards him, swiping the knife from Liam with a pursed expression. “I’m not that melodramatic.”

“You are that gay though.” Liam said with a laugh. Harry pointed the small green knife at him, quirking an eyebrow. “Hey! I’m the only one not sleeping with a man in the room. I’m the only one left. I can say that shit.”

“So much for fifty-fifty, huh?” Louis laughed, sliding into the chair beside Harry. “Maybe we can play matchmaker for you Liam.”

“I don’t think you guys really understand the purpose of matchmaking. It’s supposed to be simple and fun. You four have only done complicated and strange.”

“Not my fault I had a fake boyfriend.” Louis said innocently.

“And it’s not my fault I was sleeping with both Harry and Zayn at once.” Niall sighed, rolling his eyes.

“I have to admit, Blondie. I’m disappointed. If you were into me, you could have just said so.” Harry teased, harshly pushing the knife down against the plastic cutting board. “We could have worked something out.” Niall rolled his eyes and tapped Harry’s cutting board, getting him back on task.

The room was comfortably quiet and busy as the four boys shuffled around. Louis sat patiently, waiting to be told to open a bottle of wine or hold a heavy pot to be drained. It was like being home, a family finally surrounding him for his birthday. Even though Louis hadn’t believed himself before, he could feel it buzzing under his skin and settling deep in his bones: they were enough for each other and themselves. A successful birthday was Louis sucking blue buttercream off his finger while his friends laughed about the next semester and memories to come.

It wasn’t stolen glances between bites of tainted birthday cake, or forced freezing conversation in the forgotten hours of the night.

Their second attempt wasn’t meant to erase Casper, or anything that had happened between the six of them. It was backtracking and allowing Harry’s and Louis’ paths to correctly overlap where they had grazed, darting off in the other direction the moment collison seemed imminent. The time before would always have Casper in the background, having loved and been loved by Harry, but he had separated from Harry’s path cleanly and with somewhat of an understanding. His empathy had surfaced finally.

Harry had been given his own chance to enjoy time without the infringement of shame or fear. He wasn’t hiding any part of himself; he’d taken his boyfriend to his own birthday party, as loud and obnoxiously dressed as he wanted. He was happy and it was like every shattered piece of Harry had fused back together, making room to love Louis and let himself be loved.

Sitting beside Harry, Louis felt a strange sort of loneliness. Everything was quiet. All the memories rattling in Louis' head were silent; they had no reason to speak to them any longer.

_Searching is exhausting knowing that you’re the only one I come back to._

_I know._

_Baby._

_You're my boy._

_Because I never stopped feeling that way._

“I love you.” Louis said quietly, nudging Harry’s knee under the table. He was making up for lost time.

Harry looked up from his cutting board, hair tucked behind his ear and a gentle surprise widening his eyes. He looked young, naivety showing in the unexpected blush growing on his cheeks. They were eighteen again, meeting eyes for the first time. The spark was small, but with enough fire to swell in Louis' chest.

Louis was getting the chance to do it all over again. He'd gotten his best friend and the love of his life in one convenient and beautiful smile. He’d gotten the sweet, slick honey and the sour, dripping apple tied up in the same pair of pink lips. They were Louis’ to kiss and be kissed by. No more frozen anticipation or kite dodging.

Louis birthday wish had come true after all. He might have wasted it on a boy, but there wasn’t anyone else Louis would want to waste his life away with. Louis would give up his entire life standing in church youth centers and applauding murals; loitering in graffitied hallways in crowded pubs, or lying out shivering in desolate courtyards if it meant he’d never have to wish to know he was loved again. If it meant he’d never be homesick as long as he was with Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a huge thanks to you for getting to the end x  
> hope you enjoyed the boys' very intense winter holiday-- just y'all wait 'til you see the summer


End file.
